In the Crosshairs
by Baniac
Summary: The League of Shadows has a new leader, but not all members of the League are content with this change. When a new threat against Barsad arises, Bane may have to choose between his fledgling commander and his best friend.
1. Chapter 1

**IN THE CROSS HAIRS**

 **Chapter 1**

The six-month-old girl looked up at Bane from where she lay nestled in his massive arms and wriggled in delight when he smiled at her. She smiled back and chortled, revealing two lower incisors, two white squares amidst all that moist pink. Bane chuckled and nuzzled her buttery-soft sternum, causing her to squirm even more, her arms breaking free from the warm towel that he had wrapped her in after her bath. Her tiny hands gently slapped against his head.

"Look at you, my little princess," Bane crooned. "The world has never seen a more beautiful creature…except perhaps your mother."

His bare feet fell silently as he moved about the spacious nursery. He loved these rare moments alone with his daughter, when the world about them lay quiet and peaceful. Sometimes they reminded him of the long-ago day in the pit prison when her mother, Talia, had been born, and he had held her for the first time, washed her and swaddled her. Even amidst the horrors of the prison, those moments had indeed given him peace…and lifelong purpose.

Evening sunlight beckoned him to a nearby window, which looked out over the rolling jade hills that surrounded Chateau Blanc. Row upon row of vines stretched beyond the large, manicured gardens, vines which produced some of the finest wine in France. In the distance, the Pyrenees rose, this time of year green and beckoning, except for the higher elevations farther away, their ragged peaks even now capped with snow. He smiled at the memory of Talia skiing those slopes last winter, her identity concealed by her ski goggles, hat, and ski mask. Though Bane did not share her downward thrill, he had watched from a nearby, private chalet, peering through binoculars so he could see her up close.

"Someday I will take you to those mountains, little one," Bane promised, kissing his daughter's fleshy cheek. She gurgled, and a bubble formed on her lips, popping when she opened her mouth wider. Bane chuckled.

Then he heard their voices. The boys. Henri, raucous and loud, shouting, "C'mon, James. Hurry!"

Bane sighed and murmured to his daughter, "Here comes the tornado, sweetheart. So much for our quiet time."

She made a little frown, one light brown eyebrow deviating from its usual straightness.

Soon the door to the suite opened, and Bane's son—nearly four years old—spilled inward, cheeks flushed, walnut-colored hair damp from a swim in the pool, a towel tied around his neck like a superhero's cape, fluttering in his wake.

"There you are, Papa Baba!" Henri cried. "I found him, James!"

"Henri!" sixteen-month-old James called from beyond the doorway, the name pronounced in toddler-speak as "'enwe."

"Did you leave that poor boy in your dust again, my son?" Bane asked in a chiding tone.

"He too slow," Henri complained before stepping back into the hallway. "C'mon, James." He waited until the toddler caught up to him, held out a hand, which James took. Then he tugged the tottering boy into the nursery with him.

James Barsad had his father's thin, bow-shaped lips, high forehead, and light brown complexion and his mother's chocolate eyes and black hair. He was good-natured like his parents, always with a ready smile and an endearing laugh whereas Henri could be petulant and sulky. The two boys were nearly inseparable ever since James could crawl. Prior to that, the baby had been little more than a curiosity to Henri, who had been greatly disappointed that the boy had not come out of the womb walking and talking so he could have an immediate companion. Henri loved to boss James around, but James took it in stride, happy to wait for one of the adults in their lives to come to his rescue. But Bane had a feeling James would not always be so pliable. His father had the ability to take much from his best friend as well, but Bane always knew John's tipping point and rarely tried to push him beyond it.

"Papa Baba, we caught a frog by the swimming pool," Henri announced. "Come and see. We put him in a bucket."

"I am taking care of your sister right now, Jin," Bane said, using the shortened version of Henri's middle name, Temujin, a name that held far more affection for Bane than the name Henri. "You are both dripping still. You know better than to come into the house that way. Your great-grandmother will be upset with you."

"Come outside," Henri pleaded. "My big towel's there, and I'll show you the frog."

"Henri!" his mother's distant voice called from the lower floor of the grand hall. "Where are you? You were not to leave the pool without me."

"Uh-oh," Henri said near a whisper, exchanging a look with James.

"You are in the soup now, young man," Bane rumbled. "You have displeased your mother, and I will not save you."

"Let's hide, James," Henri urged, starting for the closet.

"There is no hiding from your mother," Bane said, smoothly stepping between his son and the closet.

The baby in his arms began to fuss.

"You are irritating your sister, Jin. Now, go back to your mother while I put Meli to bed. It is time for you and James to clean up for supper."

Little James was staring up at Melisande. The girl had always held a fascination for him. "Baby," he said, reaching toward the infant, trying to raise his other hand, but it was still in Henri's tight grasp.

"We have to hide!" Henri urgently insisted as his mother's calls came up the stairs ahead of her.

"There will be no hiding. Go back to your mother at once, Jin, before you make her even angrier with you."

"But—"

"Go." Bane pointed to the door. "And apologize to your mother and James. He is an unwitting accomplice in your ill-conceived plan."

"But—"

"Your truant son is in here, my love," Bane called. His raised voice made Melisande squirm and whimper, so he hastened to soothe her with whispered words and gentle kisses.

"Hide under the bed!" Henri said to James with sudden inspiration, but again his father blocked his path.

"Baby!" James insisted, paying far more attention to Melisande than to where his companion kept dragging him.

Henri tried to elude his father, side-stepping quickly, but he failed. Just then Talia appeared in the doorway, a scowl on her beautiful oval face. Her long hair spilled about her shoulders, its usual dark brown faded slightly by a summer of sun. She wore a white, gauzy cover-up over her sapphire bikini, the same blue as her large eyes, eyes just like her son's. The curves of her slim body, the lovely roundness of her small breasts distracted Bane long enough for Henri to try to dive under the crib, but James acted like an anchor, still paying attention to Melisande, who began to cry.

"There you are," Talia said. She stepped quickly into the room and dragged Henri from his crouch. "Look what you've done—you've upset your sister, just when she's supposed to be settling down."

"But, Mama—"

At last James was freed, and he went to stand at Bane's feet. "Baby crying."

"I'm so sorry, _habibi_ ," Talia said to Bane. "I fell asleep on my lounge."

"No need to apologize, _habibati_. Our obstinate bear cub knows better than to leave the pool without your permission. Don't you, Jin?"

"Look at all the water you've trailed through the house," Talia scolded. "And dragging poor little James with you."

"But I want Papa Baba to see our frog."

"The frog isn't going anywhere; you could have waited." She lifted Henri onto her hip. "Now apologize to your father and sister."

Sulking, Henri kept his eyes down. "I'm sorry."

Bane turned his daughter away, bouncing her lightly to distract her. "James, go with Talia and Jin." He returned to the window, his back to the others, again speaking softly to the infant whose cries came with a little less stridency now.

"Come along, James," Talia said.

"Baby sad."

"She'll be fine with her papa. Give me your hand, sweetheart."

The threesome left the room.

"Hisham," Talia said to the servant who hurried near to her, no doubt drawn by the commotion. "Henri has made a mess, dripping all the way into the nursery. Could you please see to it?"

"Yes, madam. Right away."

Talia closed the inner door to the nursery then the door to the suite.

Melisande grew quieter now, her eyelids growing heavy as Bane angled the blinds to dim the light. He kissed away the teardrops clinging to her petal-soft lashes.

"There now, little one. Those noisy boys are gone, and it is time for you to sleep. I will read you a story."

Bane settled into a rocking chair in one corner of the room, the furniture groaning under his heavy weight, and took a storybook from an adjacent table. As he quietly read to his daughter, her loving eyes—brown, like her grandmother's—studied him as she sucked on her fingers and made soft sounds of contentment. Within minutes the light began to dim in those eyes as sleep slipped closer. Just as Bane finished the story, Melisande drifted off, her glistening fingers sliding away from her open mouth, her tiny lips pink and perfectly shaped like her mother's.

He remained in the chair several minutes longer, simply enjoying the sight of his daughter. Often, he thought of her grandmother, after whom she was named. Melisande had endured five years in the pit prison with Bane, both helping each other in very different ways to survive and to ensure Talia survived. Bane had loved her deeply, though he had never told her as much, for she was a married woman who dreamed of being reunited with her husband. Now all he had left of their time together was an old blanket, its once-vibrant earthen colors faded with years. He and Talia kept it carefully preserved. They had last used it when their daughter was born, wrapping her in it as Talia had been swaddled in it as an infant in the pit.

Bane frequently told his daughter stories about Talia's mother, and the child seemed to enjoy them, always attentive and never crying as he spoke of her grandmother. Talia would sometimes sit and listen, too, her eyes misting over.

As he rocked in the chair longer, he heard Talia and the boys return from the swimming pool. Somehow Talia kept the two from speaking too loudly as they crept past the nursery on their way to shower and don fresh clothes for dinner. He did, however, hear James ask for his mother and father. Talia reminded him that his parents would return in time for supper, no doubt refreshed from their day together away from Chateau Blanc, a little escape from parenting responsibilities.

At last Bane reluctantly put his child into her crib, swaddled and in deep sleep, never disturbed by his movement. He stood longer, watching over her. The warmth of pure love flowed through him. In this moment he fully understood what people meant when they said something "melted" their hearts. Looking at Melisande, he felt pliable and soft inside, a sensation very foreign to someone who could kill another man with a mere squeeze of his massive fist.

It was sensations like these that made him as unsettled as he was happy, for they caused him to question many things, including his very way of life as second-in-command of the League of Shadows. His duties often took him away from his family, into dangerous situations, and because of the League's international operations he was one of world's most wanted men. He had always been a man of incredible, singular focus, but since the birth of Henri, he had noticed how thoughts of his son broke through his usual wall of purpose when he was in the field or when he traveled to the League's secret headquarters in Saudi Arabia's An Nafud desert. And since Melisande's birth, those mental intrusions had doubled.

He loved his son more than life, and he had thought he would feel the same about his daughter but, looking at her now, he knew his emotions were even more tied up in Melisande. The reason was obvious to him—she was an infant and a girl. Though he knew it was not necessarily true that females were the "weaker" sex—Talia was proof of that—he still felt an overwhelming belief that his daughter required more protection than his son. Perhaps that was because Henri was such a fearless child, and Melisande was small and completely dependent. Or perhaps it simply had to do with her name and his everlasting guilt over the fact that in prison he had been unable to save Talia's mother from a horrible death at the hands of dozens of prisoners. Whatever it was, he sometimes found excuses to remain at Chateau Blanc instead of flying to various theaters of operations for the League. He had a feeling that the League's new commander realized this as well and failed to appreciate his devotion to his children.

"Sir," a soft but deep male voice called to him from the doorway of the nursery, startling him.

Bane cursed himself for being so engulfed in thought that he had not detected Yemi's approach. You are slipping, he told himself ruefully.

Holding up a finger for patience, he approached the big Nigerian, a man who had been in prison with Bane and who had been Talia's personal bodyguard when she had been head of the League. The two left the nursery, Bane closing the door behind him.

"What is it, Yemi?"

"Nyssa called. She said you weren't answering your cell, so she called me. She wants you to call her back."

"Very well. Thank you, Yemi."

A small smile crept over the African. "I didn't tell her you were reading to the little princess."

"And I thank you for that."

Once they stepped outside of the suite, Yemi left him. Before heading to his office, Bane paused for a moment near the low granite railing before him. He stood between two granite pillars, gazing across the grand hall. The ceiling rose above, dominated in the center by an imposing, square skylight which flooded sunlight into the grand hall and its dual, red-carpeted staircase which descended from Bane's floor. The rococo balustrade shimmered golden, topped by highly polished walnut railings. The stairs led to a reception area inside the front portico where antique golden chairs with red cushions that matched the staircase carpet waited for visitors who never came to the secluded chateau.

Bane gave a slight snort of derision at the opulence of this palatial, mid-18th century manor. Though he appreciated the craftsmanship of the architecture and interior design, he could never feel comfortable living amidst such extravagance, having come from a background of utter poverty and believing in the League's ideals of simplicity and social equality. But here he stood, staring at the scagliola on the walls, which matched the pillars, because Talia insisted on comfort and beauty for her children and her grandmother, Maysam. For their sake alone did he remain here. Aside from his scorn for luxury, he felt this location in France lacked the security provided by a more remote location like they had enjoyed in Rajasthan, India, for several years before his daughter's birth.

He could hear the inviting sound of Talia's French-accented voice from behind the suite door. Bane smiled. His son was arguing against the need to take a shower after swimming. How Henri enjoyed sparring with his mother. Too much sometimes. That is when Bane would step in, then the boy would always behave, for he idolized his father and aspired to be just like him.

Remembering his obligation, Bane headed to his office downstairs where he had left his cellphone.

At the bottom of the stairs, he turned right, passed through a small anteroom and entered what was known as the music room. Highly polished oak floors gleamed from light pouring in floor-to-ceiling windows on the outer wall, their heavy, red velvet draperies tied back. A massive Persian rug covered most of the flooring, sharing the same red as the central staircase carpet, with an interlocking golden design, bordered by gold leafing. On the interior wall, facing two matching chandeliers, fireplaces flanked the French doors through which Bane walked. This cavernous room stretched the whole length of the manor, some one hundred, twenty-five feet. At the far end sat a beautiful grand piano, one Talia sometimes played while he hunched over his desk in the recessed area at the opposite end of the room, working.

His bare feet made no sound as he lumbered toward the imposing mahogany desk in the shadows of the recess. Four Corinthian columns rose to the ceiling, two on either side of the desk. This piece of furniture always reminded him of the desk Talia's father had in his quarters at the League's old headquarters in Bhutan. On that desk had been a comely photo of Talia's mother. As a young initiate, Bane had gone into those quarters to view the picture whenever Rā's al Ghūl was away on business. Normally such a place had been off limits to anyone but the League's commander and his daughter, yet Talia was more than happy to take Bane there and see the picture herself.

Settling into the accommodating desk chair which spoke the soft language of high-quality leather beneath his weight, Bane retrieved his cellphone from a top drawer. He hesitated, staring hard at the device. He did not look forward to this conversation, whatever it was, for he was still a bit unsettled by the ascendance of Talia's older sister, Nyssa, to the Demon's Head three months ago.

The phone rang several times on the other end before Nyssa picked up. Bane wondered if she purposefully allowed it to do so to show her displeasure at him not being immediately available earlier.

"Hello, Haris," she said, using the name Maysam called him; too risky to use the notorious name Bane, no matter how secure their communication channels. "I take it Yemi told you of my call." Slight irritation in that voice, so similar sometimes to her sister's voice.

"I was indisposed." Bane felt no obligation to go into detail. Even with his commander, he refused to say anything that sounded like an apology, for he was not sorry for attending to his daughter.

Nyssa paused before continuing. "There is an important matter I need to discuss with you, and I prefer to do so in person."

"Where shall we meet?"

"I will come to you. It'll give me a chance to visit my mother."

"Very well. When should we expect you?"

"In four days. I have matters in Ukraine to attend to first."

She could have simply relayed this brief information to him through Yemi, but Bane knew she had a purpose behind forcing him to return her call after being unavailable. He saw through her efforts at authority. Though she did not quite fear him, he knew she was still intimidated by him and his legacy with the brethren of the League whom he had once commanded after Talia's abdication. Nyssa had worked hard to reach her lofty pinnacle; she would not want to lose all that she had gained.

"We shall look forward to your visit," Bane said.


	2. Chapter 2

**IN THE CROSS HAIRS**

 **Chapter 2**

From where he sat in the back seat of the SUV with Sanjana, Barsad watched the verdant French countryside whip past the darkened window. The tortuous mountain roads lay behind them now, giving way to a gently rolling roadway with few vehicles. More and more vineyards filled the landscape, neat rows of vines stretching away over the low hills, surrounding chateaux both aged and sparkling new. It wouldn't be long now before they reached Chateau Blanc.

They had been traveling in silence for the past few miles, their two bodyguards in the front seats also quiet, impassive behind dark sunglasses.

Sanjana squeezed Barsad's hand and exchanged a smile, her eyelids still heavy from taking a nap. The fresh mountain air—as well as their love-making—had tired her out. She leaned over and kissed his stubbled cheek.

"It was a perfect day," she murmured. "Thank you, bunny."

Barsad felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment with Sanjana's use of his pet name in front of his men. But he didn't scold her, afraid he'd taint her contented mood. Instead he simply drank in the sight of her flawless cocoa skin, her bottomless coffee-colored eyes, and her long raven hair before he kissed her full lips, lingered, felt a stirring in his loins. Their faces still close, he grinned, remembering how they had made love in the lush meadow where they had had their picnic earlier today. Sanjana blushed, and he knew she was thinking of the same.

"Do you think James behaved for Talia and Bane today?" she asked, as if to distract herself from her desires. Though her English was near perfect these days, the hint of her native Hindi accent still flavored her words.

"That depends how much Henri tempted him to misbehave." Barsad chuckled. "That boy is a bad influence, just like Bane's a bad influence on me."

"I missed him today, though, didn't you?"

"Of course I did."

"He would have had so much fun exploring. Such a beautiful place. We should take him with us next time."

"Mmm, maybe." His grin turned sly, and he kissed her again before leaning back, freeing her hand. "But I enjoyed having you to myself, darlin'. It doesn't happen enough, you know."

"I know. I'll treasure today."

"Me, too."

He sighed, his head lolling against the headrest as he continued to gaze at her, remembering the silken strands of her hair gliding between his fingers when they had lain together. Sanjana sighed and closed her eyes again, and he returned his attention to the window. His reflection looked back at him, Sanjana an ethereal shape in the background. How had he ever deserved this gorgeous woman, so much younger than he? While she never seemed to age, he easily saw the lines multiply on his broad forehead and around his heavy-lidded eyes as each year passed by. Would she still want him in a few more years?

He reflected on how different she was now from when they had first met, when she had been a mere servant for Maysam, a product of the Jaipur slums and a disastrous betrothal. Because she had been a victim of sexual assault twice, it had taken Barsad a long time to win her trust, but he had thoroughly enjoyed the challenge. And once he convinced her of the genuineness of his love, she had allowed herself to love him in return. James had come along more than two years later. His son's birth had been worth the wait as well.

Sanjana had fallen into the role of mother with amazing ease. After James's birth, she never returned to servitude, and she grew more comfortable as an equal to Talia and Maysam, thanks to their shared experiences of motherhood. The transition had eased the anxiety Barsad had felt over Sanjana's previous feelings of inadequacy when around the two formidable women. True, Sanjana did not have a close relationship with Maysam—more so with Talia—but Barsad hoped that eventually the lingering employer/servant dynamic would fade away.

At last the driver made the familiar turn onto the narrow, half-mile lane that led to Chateau Blanc. Sanjana sat up straighter in her seat, and she craned her neck as if looking for her son behind every tree or amidst every row of vines they passed.

Barsad glanced at his tactical wristwatch. "Just in time to have a minute to clean up before supper."

"Good thing," Sanjana said with a teasing smile. "You know how Bane demands punctuality. If we had been late returning, you would never have heard the end of it."

"You, on the other hand, my love, would've been spared, like we'd arrived at two separate times. He spoils you. So unfair." Barsad shook his head in mock sadness.

Sanjana giggled.

She had not always been so pleased by Bane's attention. She, like anyone when they first met Bane, had been intimidated by his size, charisma, and mythical persona, and fearful of his lethalness. But Bane had eventually won her over with his kindness and gentlemanly ways of speaking to her. When he had first met the young woman, Bane had worn a tarantula-like mask that delivered a vapor of drugs to kill the constant pain from age-old facial damage suffered in prison. But once Talia had discovered that she was pregnant, Bane had undergone numerous surgeries to repair his face so his son wouldn't have to grow up looking at that ominous dark mask every day. Bane's physical transformation had eased Sanjana's nervousness around him.

The chateau's two-story portico loomed in front of them, its stately columns glistening pale in the sunlight. Then shadow darkened the SUV as it pulled beneath the portico's second-story and halted in front of the main doors. One of his men deftly left the vehicle to open Sanjana's door. Barsad rounded the SUV to accompany her inside. A young servant boy appeared from the manor to retrieve their picnic basket and other items taken for the day trip.

They had just entered the chateau and reached the bottom of the main staircase when their son's high-pitched voice echoed from above.

"Daddy! Mommy!"

Barsad looked up to where Maysam stood near the top of the stairs, James in her arms, the boy reaching toward them with wriggling fingers.

Sanjana made a small sound of excitement and rushed upward, calling to their son, her yellow crepe caftan billowing in her wake. Barsad chuckled and followed at a more reserved pace.

James squealed with delight as Maysam surrendered him to his mother, the two women laughing at the boy, all talking at once.

Maysam's gaze reached past Sanjana as Barsad drew near, and they exchanged smiles, an age-old privacy reflected in their eyes. Even in her seventies, Maysam was a striking woman. She had never colored her black hair, which was now threaded with streaks of silver, a hue that lent an air of wisdom, not decay. Her dark eyes were as sharp and alive as they had been when Barsad met her more than twenty years ago, her lips still full and alluring with her broad smile. Like Talia, she kept her body in shape, watching what she ate and exercising regularly, including daily swims in the pool.

"Daddy!" James reached over Sanjana's shoulder, and Barsad grasped the boy's hand and kissed it.

"Looks like someone's been swimming," Barsad said as he tousled his son's damp hair.

"We got frog!"

"A frog? Where is he?"

James pointed vaguely.

"The frog is where he should be," Maysam said. "Outside. You and Henri may try to catch him again on another day."

"Thank you for helping Talia watch James today," Sanjana said.

"You know it was my pleasure," Maysam smiled. "And you have just enough time to freshen up for supper. I am assuming you are all eating with the rest of us, yes?"

Twenty minutes later Barsad was carrying James on his shoulders into the dining room. Like in the music room, the walls here were an ivory color with gold trim, the same golden color as the richly coffered ceiling. Over each of the two interior-wall fireplaces hung enormous mirrors with a third mounted between them. Opposite, three ceiling-to-floor windows provided a view across the front courtyard and rows of snarled vines. Coral-colored drapes were tied back to allow in the day's failing sunlight. Large candelabra supported by sculpted cherubs placed at precise intervals along the walls provided more illumination. The carpet's color matched the drapes, with beige and brown designs. Barsad had always felt a bit odd having meals here, for the room could easily accommodate forty people for dinner, but instead the staff had only eight people to serve.

Barsad and his family were the last to arrive, for James—energized by his parents' return—had scampered around their suite, squealing with happiness as his father chased him down to change his malodorous diaper.

Bane, Talia, Henri, Maysam, and Aaron Abrams sat clustered on one side of the long mahogany table, occupied by casual conversation, something centered around Henri, as was often the case. No one sat at the head of the table; that was reserved for the League's commander when she came to Chateau Blanc on business or to visit her mother. Only on those occasions did Nyssa's mother join them for meals, coming from the cottage where she lived behind the chateau. Even after more than a year of coexisting, Diya Panjabi was afraid of Bane and even Barsad to a certain degree. The Indian woman still found it difficult to accept her daughter's association with the League of Shadows. She would have preferred to be back in her village in Rajasthan, but Nyssa insisted that she was safest here.

"Jiddah!" James cried to Maysam.

"Our little prince has arrived upon his steed," Maysam said with a warm smile.

"You are late," little Henri chastised them from his highchair, crossing his arms with such a sincere air that everyone nearly laughed. But all knew what Henri really was averse to was Maysam paying attention to James instead of him. He often scolded James for referring to Maysam as grandmother; he felt only he and his mother should be allowed to use such a word.

"We're late," Barsad said, "because a certain somebody," he reached to tickle his son's belly, drawing giggles, "was playing the hare and the tortoise with his parents with a full diaper."

He put James in a highchair across from Henri, then held Sanjana's chair for her to sit on their son's left before he took his own seat to James's right.

"I still can't picture you changing diapers, Barsad," Aaron Abrams chuckled from where he and Maysam sat to the right of Bane's family.

Abrams was a gruff, older man, Maysam's bodyguard and lover, and once a fellow inmate of Bane's in prison. The most distinctive feature on his stocky, square body was his cleft upper lip, giving him a slight speech impediment, barely noticed now by those at table after all this time together. It was easy to see past Abrams's salt and pepper hair—more salt than pepper nowadays—and the careworn lines on his face to see that, regardless of the cleft lip, he had been quite a handsome man in his younger days, and still was, Maysam insisted.

"I leave the diaper changing to Sanjana as much as she'll let me," Barsad said with a grin as two servants brought in the first course.

Once served, those at table leisurely consumed the basil salmon terrine, garnished with sliced cucumbers and grapes, as Barsad and Sanjana described their picnic. The children often interrupted, wanting to share the story of their frog capture. Barsad continued speaking even as he had to pick up some of the chopped strawberries his son tossed from the highchair tray. When Henri thought it fun to do the same with his food, Bane growled a brief warning.

Barsad had noted Bane's mood right away when he had entered the dining room; his expression was closed, gaze distracted, and he said little. Something while he and Sanjana were away had irritated the big man. Bane's moodiness was not unfamiliar to Barsad, but here at Chateau Blanc where he could enjoy his family, Bane was more often contented, if not downright happy, a transformation Barsad always welcomed. Anything that disturbed that utopia concerned Barsad, so, after he and Sanjana had related their day's activities, he decided to probe for what had disturbed his commander.

"What did we miss while we were away?" he asked, looking at Bane. "Besides the boys' frog, that is."

Bane would know that he had noticed his disposition; sometimes Bane appreciated Barsad's intuition, other times he grumbled about his lieutenant's "nosiness" when it came to his emotions. Talia's glance at Bane told Barsad that she already knew what was troubling her lover. But before Bane could answer, Maysam began to tell them about a shopping trip to Paris that she was planning. The quiet sigh from Abrams made it clear that he was not particularly fond of the idea, but, of course, he would acquiesce to Maysam; the man loved her deeply, something Barsad could completely understand, having had an affair with her many years ago when he had worked for her husband.

Once Maysam fell silent, Barsad looked again to Bane, one eyebrow raised leadingly. "We've been left to our own devices here for a while now; seems like we should be ordered into the field any time, though I have to say I'd rather take my son fishing."

Henri and James both gasped with excitement, turning their attention from the servants serving the main course— _pot au feu_.

"Fishing, Uncle John?" Henri cried. "Can I go, too?"

" _May_ I go." Talia corrected his English with a smile.

The boy frowned in annoyance. "May I?"

Barsad wagged a finger at him. "Only if you promise not to catch all the fish."

Henri laughed and, licking his lips, watched the servant place cooked carrots and turnips on his plate.

"You must enjoy your leisure time as much as possible," Bane said to Barsad. "Nyssa will be paying us a visit in the next few days, so I would imagine we will receive an assignment at that time."

"Maybe," Maysam said, "she's just coming to visit her mother." Worry wrinkled her brow, for she hated whenever they had to leave Chateau Blanc, fearing for their safety not only because she loved them but because she dreaded the children losing their fathers to a foe's bullet.

"To be honest," Bane said, "I'm not certain what her purpose is precisely; she was vague on that, only saying there was a matter she wanted to discuss in person with me."

Talia's expression grew grave and a bit suspicious. She and her sister were not close, though neither were they adversarial as they had been when Nyssa had first appeared unexpectedly in their lives to claim the Demon's Head as the elder heir to Rā's al Ghūl. Barsad had half-expected the two to eventually form some sort of bond. After all, it wasn't as if Talia particularly coveted the position any longer; her focus was on her children. Yet the two women remained cool toward one another whenever Nyssa came to Chateau Blanc. Barsad thought their aloofness a bit foolish, for he had loved his only sibling—James was named after him—and would have enjoyed nothing better than to have him here today. He reminded himself, however, that Talia had always been a unique woman, standoffish to other women except for her grandmother. No doubt that came from her early years of life when she was exposed only to men until, as a teenager, she had been sent to the prestigious Le Rosey in Switzerland.

"I wish Nyssa wouldn't come," Maysam muttered as she cut into the tender beef on her plate. "Nothing good ever results from her visits." Her dark gaze flicked between the two children. "These boys need their fathers here."

Barsad chuckled. "We're still soldiers, Maysam. And we follow orders."

"Maybe it is time you didn't," she said with a defiant lift of her chin.

"Oh, boy," Abrams murmured with dread, suddenly finding his food the most interesting thing in the room. He had witnessed this battle before and was wise enough to stand clear.

Sanjana looked up hopefully from her meal. On occasion, she would broach this same subject with Barsad, but she preferred Maysam argue the point, especially because the older woman had the authority to address both Bane and Barsad. Talia, however, merely glanced at her grandmother with little reaction. She wasn't indifferent, Barsad knew; it was just that she knew Bane's mind better than anyone, and Bane would do only what Bane desired when it came to this topic. She alone had the power to cause Bane to forsake the League, but she would never ask him to do such a thing; it had to be his decision alone. Like Sanjana, however, Talia would certainly welcome having the father of her children safe from the dangers of field work.

When neither Bane nor Barsad immediately addressed Maysam's statement, the older woman prodded, "Don't you wish to see your children grow up? You have both missed valuable moments in their lives, things you cannot retrieve."

"It is not that simple," Bane said with a gentleness he showed few others. "We can't expect the League to support us and our families if we offer nothing in return."

"You have already given them everything," Maysam said. "As I see it, the League owes you a lifetime of gratitude. And, besides, if money is an issue, you know I have the means to support all of us."

"That is not what we would want," Bane said.

"Hell, no," Barsad added.

"It is what I want," Maysam continued, "if that's what it takes to preserve your lives for all our sakes."

Hisham slipped inside the dining room doors, carrying a cellphone. Barsad almost didn't notice him, so consumed by the conversation. But soon the servant was at Maysam's side, murmuring into her ear and offering the phone.

"If you will all excuse me," Maysam said with a hint of annoyance, "my brother is on the phone, and he says it is urgent." She pushed her chair away from the table and stood, taking the phone from Hisham. "Please continue your meal. I won't be long." She left the room, her caftan swirling about her, Hisham in her wake.

"I hope it's not bad news," Talia said, glancing between the door and her son's beef as she sliced it for him. "Ayman doesn't call very often."

"It's probably nothing to worry about, habibati," said Bane, though his gaze also darted once to the closed door.

"Maybe I should go see," Abrams said, setting down his utensils.

"Give her a moment," Talia cautioned.

James banged his spoon against his tray. "Jiddah!"

Sanjana used her index finger to wipe away some stray food from her son's cheek. "Jiddah will be right back, sweetie. Eat your peas now. Here, open wide."

As promised, Maysam returned shortly. Barsad did not like how the color had faded from her cheeks or the way her gaze reached for his before touching briefly on Sanjana, who continued to be busy with James. When she halted behind her chair, no longer holding the phone, all eyes went to her.

"What did Ayman want, Jiddah?" Talia asked.

Maysam hesitated. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Barsad's first thought was that Maysam's brother-in-law, Nashir, head of the El Fadil family, had been killed. He was a warlord of sorts back in Rajasthan, with several sources of income from both legitimate business ventures as well as many more in the shadows, and thus had numerous enemies. It was why Maysam had bodyguards, even this far from her in-laws.

"News from Jaipur reached the palace today," Maysam said, the mention of Sanjana's hometown raising the young woman's head. Maysam frowned, her fingers kneading the back of her chair. "It was a message for Sanjana from her family."

"My family?" Sanjana echoed in surprise, the color draining from her face.

Barsad reached for her shoulder. She grasped his hand.

Rarely did she hear from her relatives since the day she had gone to work at the palace; her father had disowned her after her betrothal had fallen apart, and her mother could neither read nor write, even if Sanjana's father had allowed her to communicate with their daughter. About once a year, though, a brief, poorly-written letter would reach Sanjana, dictated by her mother to one of Sanjana's uncles and secreted to the palace. Sanjana's family had no idea that she had moved to France, nor would they ever be told.

"I'm terribly sorry, Sanjana," Maysam said, her words heavy with emotion. "The letter said your father passed away two days ago."

Sanjana gasped, her fingernails digging into Barsad's hand. James looked up at her with concern.

"Mama?"

"How…how?" Sanjana choked out.

"He was struck by a car. I'm so sorry, Sanjana."

Sanjana said nothing else, staring blankly at her plate.

"Mama," James said, banging his spoon again.

Talia and Bane both offered heartfelt condolences.

"My poor mother," Sanjana murmured as if hearing nothing that was said to her. Suddenly she looked at Barsad, tears filling her eyes. "I have to go to my mother. She needs me."

Bane cleared his throat, and Barsad saw the caution in his commander's eyes.

"Darlin'," Barsad said, "I don't think—"

"I have to," Sanjana interrupted with new force, turning to him. "She wants me there; otherwise, why would she have sent word to the palace?"

James banged his spoon even harder. "Mama!"

"Be quiet, James," Henri scolded, then leaned toward his mother and loudly whispered, "Mama, why is Sanjana crying?"

"Hush, sweetheart," Talia said, then murmured into his ear. Henri frowned with the confusion of one too young to understand the gravity of the situation.

"I don't want you traveling alone," Barsad said to Sanjana.

"Then come with me, John. Please. I want to see my mother. It's been so many years. She needs me."

"I'd need to ask for a leave of absence, and, knowing Nyssa, there's slim chance of getting that," Barsad said with complaint in his tone; he had never been a supporter of the League's new commander.

"But you could ask?" Sanjana pleaded.

Barsad looked across the table at Bane and Talia, surprised neither of them was offering an opinion on his dilemma. In Talia's gaze, he saw a hint of encouragement for him to defy her half-sister. He turned back to Sanjana, who was chewing her lower lip.

Maysam came around the table toward them, said, "Here, Sanjana. Let me help James with his supper while you and John take some private time to discuss what should be done."

"Thank you, Maysam." Sanjana stood, still holding onto Barsad's hand, wiping away her tears with her linen napkin.

"Sanjana," Talia said. "We will be happy to watch James for you, of course. Do what you must do. We all know how much you've missed your family over the years."

"Thank you, Talia." Sanjana's lips trembled. She bent to absently kiss her son's cheek.

Barsad put his arm around her.

"Where Daddy go?" James asked.

"Mommy and I will be back in a little bit, son. Be good for Jiddah."

"Come too," the boy requested.

"Don't you want to stay with me?" Maysam said, feigning hurt feelings, tilting her head.

James squirmed as if ashamed. "Okay, Jiddah."

Maysam smiled and brushed her fingers along his temple, making the child squirm even more and laugh.

"Tickles!"

"Here, take a spoonful of these peas, my love."

Barsad nodded his thanks to Maysam then escorted Sanjana from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**IN THE CROSSHAIRS**

 **Chapter 3**

Bane knocked quietly on the door to Barsad's suite and waited. The meal he had ingested sat in his stomach like a wadded up wet rag. It was not that the food had been of poor quality but rather that his appetite for sustenance of any kind had been weak because of Nyssa's ambiguous phone call and the news about Sanjana's father.

Bane thought of Talia, whom he had left settling into her favorite chair on their balcony with a book, enjoying a moment of peace now that their children were in bed. The death of Sanjana's father had disturbed her, as it had Bane. Sanjana was dear to both of them, not simply because of her sweet disposition but because she made Barsad so happy. Bane had asked Talia if she wished to accompany him to talk to Barsad, but she said it would be best if Bane spoke to him brother to brother.

The door opened, and Barsad stood before him, barefoot and wearing a white t-shirt and gray cotton drawstring pants. His hooded eyes looked even sleepier than usual.

"How is Sanjana, brother?"

Barsad frowned and glanced over his shoulder as if to ensure Sanjana was not there. "She's packing. She's determined to go home."

"I came to discuss that with you. Perhaps it would be best if we went to my office or to the patio."

Barsad gave a curt nod. "Let me tell her where I'm going. I'll meet you on the patio in a couple of minutes."

"Very well. I will have Hisham bring us some iced tea."

Barsad smiled, wan and weary. "I could go for something stronger."

"Wine, then."

"Something _stronger_."

"You know we keep no spirits stronger than our vintages, brother."

"I bet Hisham has something stashed away."

Bane saw through Barsad's hopeful game and offered a tiny smile. "Perhaps he does, but I doubt it is for his own consumption."

Barsad shrugged coyly. "Who's to say? He may have picked up something for a friend."

Bane scoffed. "You are as incorrigible as my son. One could wonder at the true identity of his father some days."

"You know I'd never dare tread those waters."

"I will see you on the patio."

The expansive concrete patio had a small fountain at one end with large urns on either side, filled with thriving scarlet geraniums, carefully nurtured by the gardener, a Frenchman seemingly as old as the chateau. From his cushioned chair Bane could see the stooped fellow moving amidst the rose bushes that grew along the front edge of the patio. Regardless of years, the gardener showed little infirmity, either mentally or physically, and he prided himself on his pink roses. Francois always made sure to fill at least one vase in Melisande's nursery every day with them, as well as the vase on Talia's nightstand.

"You are working past your time, Francois," Bane called. "You should be relaxing by now. The sun is about to set."

Francois straightened, a pair of shears in one hand and several cut roses in the other. "Madam instructed me to arrange a fresh bouquet to take to Miss Sanjana."

Of course, Bane thought, Maysam would think of such a gesture, whether it kept Francois past his time or not.

"Very well, Francois. Do carry on."

The gardener gave a slight bow. "Thank you, monsieur."

Bane settled deeper into the chair and sighed. He looked to the west, admiring the sunset, which bronzed the landscape and held the night at bay a bit longer. A variety of birds still sang and called, but not with the stridency they displayed in the spring when every tree and vine hummed with their choruses. Swallows darted and wheeled, calling to one another in their acrobatic displays as they pursued insects in the golden twilight. Soon the bats would appear. Henri loved to watch them on those occasions when his parents allowed him to stay up past his bedtime. Like Bane, Henri had an unquenchable curiosity in all things. Bats, however, made Bane remember his old nemesis, Batman, supposedly dead after saving Gotham from the League's occupation. The thought of that failure still left a bitter taste in Bane's mouth all these years later.

Now he forced those memories away by considering his son's thirst for knowledge. How different Henri's upbringing was from his, nearly the polar opposite. Bane had not only grown up in prison but had been born there and endured twenty-five years before rescue. He had never set foot in a formal school. His teachers had been his mother, the prison doctor, and a couple of inmates. He had read everything he could get his hands on, including all the books in the doctor's possession, multiple times. Other inmates taught him their varied languages. After his rescue, the League of Shadows continued his education, and he had especially excelled in math and science. Now he had begun to share his knowledge with his son. Henri already spoke three languages fluently—English, French, and Arabic. Sanjana was teaching him Hindi.

Hisham arrived almost silently, bearing a silver tray, which he set on a small table at Bane's elbow. Distractedly, Bane thanked him.

"Will Mr. Barsad and Sanjana be leaving us soon, sir?"

"Barsad will let you know his decision before you retire tonight, Hisham."

The servant bowed. "Very well, sir." He retreated.

The tray bore a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses as well as a decanter of what appeared to be brandy and one tumbler, along with a silver, insulated ice bucket. There had been no need for Bane to specify refreshments—Hisham had known exactly what to bring, including the taboo liquor for Barsad. Bane's lips twisted in a wry grin. Hisham had always had a soft spot for Barsad, dating back to the sniper's early days in the employ of Maysam's deceased husband, when Barsad's American upbringing made him treat Hisham as more of a friend than a servant.

Bane's thoughts returned to his son's education. Talia was averse to sending Henri away to school once he was older, but Bane wanted Henri to experience more of the outside world, to learn life lessons not found in books or the words of a tutor. Talia argued spiritedly whenever the subject came up, so Bane tried to avoid the topic as much as possible. After all, it was far too early to make an argument worthwhile.

"Hisham comes through as always," Barsad said as he crossed the patio, bare-footed still. "Is it safe to assume he brought this without your consent?"

"He had my tacit consent, though you both know my views on strong drink, whether a League member or not. But I will look the other way, considering the situation you find yourself in."

"Thanks, Dad." Barsad winked and sat across the table from Bane. He used tongs to plunk ice cubes into the tumbler. "I'd drink it neat, but I don't want to press my luck with my boss. He's a grumpy old bastard."

"I am glad you have maintained your good humor after hearing Sanjana's tragic news. It is that news that brings us here, brother. Have you convinced Sanjana not to return to India?"

"I'm afraid there's no doing that." Barsad sipped the drink and grunted with satisfaction. "She wants to leave early in the morning, so I'd better try to reach Nyssa."

"There's no need for that."

"Are you serious?" Barsad barked a skeptical laugh. "We need permission slips for personal travel, remember."

"I'm well aware of Nyssa's rules. But to seek her permission may cause a delay in your departure or perhaps result in an outright denial. You know that old saying, brother—better to ask forgiveness than permission; you have used it many times against me. You should take Sanjana to see her mother; it has been too long for the poor girl, thanks to her father. He should never have deprived those two of their relationship. For that, I am glad he is gone."

"What about Nyssa?"

"I will handle her. As your immediate superior, I take full responsibility for your actions."

Barsad imbibed in an even larger swallow of the brandy, grimaced at its bite, or was the grimace about Nyssa? "I don't wanna be responsible for you getting your ass chewed. I can handle Nyssa."

"Perhaps. But doing this my way will allow you to leave first thing in the morning. It's important to Sanjana to be with her family as soon as possible. The girl asks for so little; let us give her this."

Barsad nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks, Bane. I appreciate you running interference. You know how I feel about Talia's sister. I'd rather not be put in a bad mood by discussing this with her."

Bane smiled slightly. "I think she enjoys pushing your buttons. She always has."

Barsad scoffed and sipped the brandy, returned Francois's, "Good evening," as the gardener headed toward the house with his bouquet.

"Those roses are for Sanjana," Bane told Barsad. "Maysam's thoughtful idea."

"No surprise."

"Talia wanted me to again reassure you not to worry about James while you are gone."

"Well, turns out Sanjana wants him to come with us since her mother has yet to meet her only grandchild."

"That is understandable, but it might not be prudent."

"Well, Sanjie isn't exactly thinking prudently. She's pretty messed up by all this. A part of her is relieved because her father's death makes it possible for her to see her family again, but she feels guilt for that, of course, like she wished him dead. Of course I tell her that's bullshit. She's worried how her family will survive without his income."

"With the father out of the picture, we will be able to directly help them. They should have no worries there. He was a proud, foolish man to refuse Sanjana's offer to help them financially."

"I'm glad the hairy bastard is gone," Barsad grumbled. "I think Sanjie knows it, too."

"Surely you have not shared your view with her."

"'Course not."

"Are you certain you want to take James with you? Maysam will fret every minute he's gone."

"Maysam was deprived of her grandchild for ten years; I'm sure she'll understand Sanjie wanting to keep James with us."

"And how do you feel about it, brother?"

"To be honest, I think it'll be good that he's with Sanjana; he'll keep her distracted, and he'll surely brighten things for her family."

"Yes, there is that aspect. But you will be exposed, brother, as you are when on a mission. I don't need to remind you of the inherent risks of taking James with you."

"Well, I won't be on a mission, so there's nobody with a reason to shoot at me," Barsad said, obviously trying to make light of Bane's serious tone to mask his own concerns.

"Nonetheless, Talia and I insist that you take two of our brothers with you for protection."

"There's no need for that."

"Nonetheless, you will pick two from our detail to accompany you. I'm sure Sanjana will appreciate it, even if you do not. They will be discreet, of course, and will not be seen by Sanjana's family. Also, you will make every effort to conceal your own identity."

"Yes, Mother. Relax. I'll take 'em along…for Sanji's peace of mind. She's worried about me being in the open, like you."

"Indeed, our women do worry over us," Bane said warmly.

"Yes, we do," Maysam's throaty words surprised them both.

They stood respectfully as she came up behind them. When she saw the brandy decanter, she raised one arched eyebrow in surprise.

"This must be a serious discussion," she said with a sly smile, "if Haris is allowing you to drink that, John. Maybe I should come back."

"No need," Bane said, offering his chair.

She waved away his polite gesture, and he noticed a small box in her other hand. "I won't need your chair, Haris. I just came to give John something before he leaves for India. That is, if you are indeed going, as I suspect."

"Yeah," Barsad said. "First thing in the morning."

Maysam hesitated. "I thought it best if I gave this to you instead of giving it directly to Sanjana." She displayed the box. "I didn't want to embarrass her or give her the opportunity to refuse it. I think she'll more willingly accept it from you, John."

"What is it?" Barsad asked.

Maysam opened the box then handed it to him. The sight of a beautiful diamond ring surprised Bane, and he instantly knew its origin, and judging by the shock on Barsad's face, he knew as well. Barsad, unlike Bane, would have seen this ring before, many years ago when Siddig El Fadil had been his boss.

Barsad tried to respond, stuttering and stammering as he looked at the wedding ring.

Maysam chuckled. "John, I'm not suggesting marriage."

Barsad's shoulders relaxed, and he grinned sheepishly. "Well, I…I didn't figure you were, but…"

"If you are going to meet Sanjana's mother, I thought it best if the two of you could tell her you are married. Her mother will more readily accept you, even though you are not Indian, and Sanjana won't be put in an indelicate position with her relatives, who would think your unwed state scandalous, especially with a child. The fact that you are not a Hindu will be challenge enough for the two of you in that environment."

"I don't know what to say, Maysam," Barsad managed, staring at her wedding ring.

"It might not be a perfect fit," Maysam continued, "but it should be close enough."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Of course. It's not as if I'll miss it. Since Siddig died, I have only worn it when I was with his family. If Sanjana balks, you must convince her of the sensibility of wearing it."

"I'll do my best." Barsad closed the box and slipped it into his pocket. "Thanks."

"What time will you be leaving?"

"As early as possible. I'll let you know before bedtime."

"James will miss you, but there's no need for you to worry about him."

Barsad cleared his throat and exchanged a glance with Bane. "Well…um…about that… Sanjana wants to take James with us."

"What?"

"She wants him to meet his grandmother."

Maysam looked at Bane as if expecting him to speak, but he figured he would leave this to Barsad unless his friend solicited his help.

"But," Maysam stammered, "that's such a long journey for a little one. And he would be safer here."

Barsad offered a soothing smile. "Maysam, you of all people should understand how much it'll mean to Sanjana's mother to meet her grandchild."

Maysam's lips pursed. "I do understand, but—"

"Remember how you felt when you first met Talia?"

"Of course. But, John…" Her voice trailed off, and she frowned. "Maybe she could come here to meet him. Aren't you afraid you'll be recognized? You would be putting your son at risk."

"I know all that, so does Sanjana, but she wants him with us. You _can_ understand that, can't you?"

She wrung her hands. "Yes, I suppose."

"I'm going to meet Sanjana's mother, but I'll limit my time with others in her family. Plus, I'll be clean-shaven, and Sanjana plans on making me a blond tonight." He grinned.

"Oh…" Maysam's frown deepened.

"Don't worry."

"I will."

Barsad sighed in resignation. "Thanks for the loan of your ring."

"You should marry that girl properly, John. Marry her and leave the League so you can live a long life with your family. I wish I had been able to do that with my daughter."

Bane decided it was time to come to his friend's aid. "Maysam," he said gently. "Barsad must do what he feels is right, especially for Sanjana. She's been dealt quite a blow. This is not the time for Barsad to be thinking of anything but her."

Maysam sighed. "Very well, Haris. I won't say any more about it." She paused, as if still hoping Barsad would change his mind. Finally she relented. "Let me know what time you plan to leave."

"I will." Barsad kissed her cheek and smiled reassuringly.

Maysam smiled back, though Bane knew it was simply because of the kiss and not because she felt better.

The two men watched her return to the house.

"She has always been a persuasive woman," Bane said. "Like her granddaughter." They returned to their seats. "You know, brother, I have no reservations if you want to marry Sanjana."

"And stay in the League? How—?"

"No, we both know you would have to request your exclusion."

Barsad scoffed. "Like Nyssa would allow it short of death."

"If she would, would you indeed entertain the thought?"

Barsad flashed a crooked grin. "You tryin' to get rid of me, big guy?"

"You know there is nothing farther from the truth."

"Why don't you do the same? We could have a double ceremony." The playful grin widened. Bane could not tell if his friend was joking.

"Neither Talia nor I are concerned with marriage. The difference here is Sanjana. Because of her background and because she, for some foolish reason, is deeply in love with you. Now that her close-minded father can no longer dictate things, I suspect she will press her desires once again in order to legitimize your union."

Barsad sobered and finished his glass of bourbon. "What would I do if I wasn't in the League, watching your back?"

"There are ways the League could use you in an unofficial capacity. You would have more flexibility than now. Perhaps you could manage Chateau Blanc?"

"Nah. Talia's doing that job just fine. In fact, I think she prefers wine to knives these days."

"Don't think she is any less devoted to the League, brother, but, yes, she has been doing an admirable job here, as she does with anything to which she applies her hand. You could always assist her."

"Not my thing, Bane."

"Then a contractor with the League it is."

"Maybe. Who knows? I'll wait till Sanji brings up marriage again. Then maybe I'll think about it." He opened the ring box again and showed the contents to Bane. "Not sure how she's going to react to Maysam offering this."

"Their relationship is indeed complicated. Hopefully she will appreciate the gesture. It is a beautiful ring."

Even in the fading light, the platinum band with its diamonds and sapphires glimmered as if new. The sapphires reminded Bane of Talia's eyes. How fitting, and how ironic that such a piece had been purchased for Maysam long before Talia's blue eyes ever saw the light of day. A prophesy, perhaps.

"I hope it'll fit her," Barsad said. "I'll look pretty silly to her mother if she thinks Sanjie's husband would buy her something that didn't fit."

Bane sipped his tea, the ice cubes tinkling against the glass, and gazed out over the perfect rows of vines stretching away. "It is a pleasant evening. We must take advantage of the peace and quiet while our children sleep."

Taking Bane's cue, Barsad fell silent, poured another finger of bourbon. Together they listened to the world around them settling down for a night that would be all too short for Barsad. Bane felt a niggle of worry for his friend. It was rare for them to be separated. Having Barsad gone would leave behind a feeling of loss, he knew, as if his right arm had been severed. Henri, too, would be unsettled, for he had never been separated from James.

"Who will Jin boss around with James gone?" Bane wondered aloud.

Barsad chuckled. "The staff, no doubt."

Silence again, protracted and thoughtful.

At last Bane said, "Don't be gone too long, brother. But while you are gone, promise me that you will consider Sanjana's desire for marriage."

Barsad tossed back the bourbon and swallowed hard. He sighed in satisfaction before setting the glass down. "You have my word."


	4. Chapter 4

**IN THE CROSSHAIRS**

 **Chapter 4**

Barsad found Sanjana in the nursery where she stood over James's bed. The boy was still awake, but his eyelids were heavy as he listened to his mother singing softly to him, a lullaby in Hindi. Barsad remained by the door, which he had opened just enough to see inside, not wanting James to detect him lest his presence interfere with the boy falling asleep. Thankfully the child had always been a good sleeper. After listening to Sanjana's melodious voice for moment, Barsad silently closed the door and retreated to the bedroom, Maysam's ring feeling as heavy as a stone in his pocket.

In the bedroom, their packed bags sat near the door. With a resigned sigh, he went to the locked gun cabinet near the walk-in closet, passing the dresser where Francois had placed the vase of roses. Punching in the combination on the keypad, he took stock of his arsenal, decided what he would take with him. Two favorites: a SIG P226 and a Beretta 92FS. From the wide array of rifles, he chose the multi-caliber Ballista. This he disassembled in no time and stored in its case. By then Sanjana entered, dressed in a coral-colored toga kurta, the matching ankle-length shrug fluttering open, reminding Barsad of a butterfly.

"I'm glad you're back," she said, sounding weary.

Barsad set the case near their bags then took her in his arms, kissed her lips.

"Is he asleep?" Barsad asked.

"Just now. He wondered where you had gone."

He forced a grin. "When Bane beckons, I have to obey, you know."

Remaining in his arms, she toyed with his collar. "Sometimes I think you won't marry me because you are married to Bane."

He chuckled at her joke and kissed her forehead. "Nah. I would've divorced him long ago." He drew her close again, smelled the scent of lilies mingling with the roses.

She gave a small start then pulled away, looking down. "What's that in your pocket? Not cigarettes, I hope."

"'Course not, darlin'. You know I've sworn off them long ago."

Sanjana sniffed. "I smell something else."

"Believe it or not, Bane let me have some bourbon just now while we talked."

"You told him we're going?"

"Yeah."

"Did he try to change your mind?"

"No. He wants you to see your family. In fact, he's going to run interference for me with Nyssa."

"What do you mean?"

"We leave tomorrow without me wasting my time arguing with Nyssa for permission. When she gets here, if we're still gone, he'll tell her why I'm away."

"I don't want you to get in trouble because of me. You know how Nyssa already feels about me and James. What was it she called us—a dangerous encumbrance?"

"To hell with Nyssa. I'm gonna do this for you. You should see your mother, and I should meet her." When Sanjana started to protest further, Barsad put a shushing finger to her lips and drew the box from his pocket. "And speaking of that upcoming awkward moment, I have something that'll make it a little less awkward."

Sanjana's eyes widened and her breath caught at the sight of the box.

"Now, Sanjie," he hastened to say, "I'm sorry, but this isn't what you think. Well, not quite."

She frowned. "Oh."

He guided her over to sit next to him on the bed. "Before I show you this, I want you to know this was Maysam's idea, and a damn good one at that. I'm sorry I didn't think of it myself."

Sanjana's gaze drifted to the flowers. "Francois said she sent those roses."

"That's right. And she would've given you this herself," he lifted the box, "but she thought you might be more likely to accept it from me. She doesn't wanna insult you. She knows you're sensitive about the subject."

"It's her wedding ring, isn't it?" she asked without revealing her emotions.

"Um, well…yes. Yes, it is." He opened the box.

Sanjana's eyes widened. "Oh, my…it's beautiful."

"Let's see if it fits."

"But…why did she give this to us?"

"It's a loan, actually. With this, you can tell your family that we're married. That way you don't hafta be worried what someone might think or say."

Sanjana hesitated then held out her hand so Barsad could slip the ring on. He had to admit the gesture gave him a moment of unexpected excitement as well as nervousness. What would it be like to actually propose to her? Was he being a coward for not doing so? Was he hiding behind the League? That's probably what Sanjana thought.

The ring fit almost perfectly. Sanjana studied it, a melancholy smile vague on her lips.

"So, what do you say?" Barsad asked. "Do you want to do it this way?"

She frowned now at the ring. "I don't like the thought of deceiving my mother, but the truth would shame her, and I can't tell her the truth without endangering you. And to endanger you is to endanger myself and James."

"I'm sorry, darlin'. I've put you in an impossible place."

Sanjana raised her head. "Being with you is my _choice_ , not your _fault_. There's no need to apologize. I appreciate you finding a way to at least appear to be married to me and for coming with me."

"It's a shitty situation for you. Maybe I _should_ leave the League. Maysam and Bane think I should."

"They do?"

"Yeah, so I can marry you."

Sanjana stared in surprise. "They said that? I'm stunned."

"Me, too. Well, at least about Bane."

"Maysam as well. After all, she thinks you deserve a better mate."

"That's not true, and you know it. Sanjie, we've talked about this a million times."

"But she's right. You deserve someone like Maysam or Talia; they don't care if Bane and Abrams don't marry them."

"Different situations, Sanjie. I knew when I was first interested in you that your family's opinion would matter to you. It's not like that for Talia or Maysam. I shouldn't have started something I couldn't follow through on."

"We fell in love, John. Neither one of us could stop that."

Barsad surrendered a small smile of agreement and kissed her. "I just wish things were simpler for you."

"Love is never simple."

"I guess." He rubbed his thumb against the ring. "Well, then, what do you think about Maysam's suggestion?"

Sanjana admired the ring, hesitated, then looked at him with that familiar youthful exuberance that always made him feel old and young at the same time. "I think," she smiled, "I will enjoy being Mrs. John Barsad, even if it's only for a couple of days."

###

Talia had difficulty concentrating on the novel she was reading. The book belonged to her grandmother, a genre she normally avoided—romance. Years ago, when she had first discovered Maysam's penchant for such novels, she had been surprised; her grandmother had never struck her as a romantic. After all, her husband had condemned their only child to life and death in the pit prison; how could any woman feel love for such a man? When Talia expressed her bemusement over her grandparent's literary choices, Maysam admitted that she had read such books as a young girl, then stopped after her daughter had been banished. It was not until Maysam's affair with Barsad that she began to read them again. In fact, Barsad had encouraged her to do so when he saw the books gathering dust on a shelf.

"He told me," Maysam had said, "that I could use reading as an escape and that I shouldn't let Siddig turn me into a cynic. He said I deserved to have some enjoyment, an indulgence." She smiled self-consciously. "Shortly after he said that, it was more than just romances he convinced me to indulge in."

Talia now smiled at the memory of their conversation. Barsad was not quite the idealist anymore, but he was more so than Aaron Abrams. But Abrams had many good qualities, including a deep love for Maysam. It pleased Talia to see her grandmother in love and still reading romance novels, which she claimed spiced up things in her bedroom, too.

Talia stared out at the violet evening clouds that just showed themselves on the horizon, the color of some of her grapes, whose beloved, orderly rows she loved to wander down, often with her daughter in a sling across her front and Henri darting in and out of the rows, calling to her to chase him, James sometimes tottering after him. She loved this place, always had, even before living here. Chateau Blanc had been purchased while she had served as Demon Head of the League as yet another way to fund the organization. Indeed the League of Shadows had such companies all over the world. She smiled at the thought of Gotham's elite citizens spending thousands of dollars on the League's vintages before the siege, in essence funding their own demise.

Again she tried to concentrate on the novel, but finally she gave up and closed the cover, sighing in irritation at her lack of focus as well as the reason behind it—her half-sister.

She never liked Nyssa coming here. Talia viewed Chateau Blanc as her home and Nyssa's visits as intrusions. But as long as Diya Panjabi lived here, Nyssa would come. Talia knew if it were not for Diya's presence, Bane would meet with Nyssa elsewhere when necessary, to please his lover. Diya wished to live in her homeland of India, but for security reasons, Nyssa demanded that she stay here. After all, Yemi's security detail was stationed here already for the others.

Over a year ago, when Nyssa had unexpectedly inserted herself into their lives, Talia had not readily embraced her as her sister. After the League council had convened and voted to uphold Nyssa's blood claim following a DNA test, Talia had not spoken privately to the older woman before Nyssa was transported to the League's training facility, 'Eth Al'theban, in a remote region of Saudi Arabia. More than a year later, Talia had accompanied Bane to Nyssa's initiation, not because she wanted to but because she and Bane felt her presence necessary to show that she accepted Nyssa's ascendance. But Talia had not lingered after the ceremony. Since then, she had spoken to her sister only in an official capacity as a consultant during the transition of power. Little did Nyssa know that in fact Bane, not Talia, had been serving as Demon Head for some time, at Talia's behest.

Although Talia did not have a personal relationship with Nyssa, she kept an eye on her through the brotherhood. If Nyssa took a wrong step or proved that she was a double agent, Talia would be ready to pounce.

Talia heard the distant sound of the suite's main door opening and closing. She knew Bane would stop to peek inside both the nursery and Henri's room before coming to her. Talia smiled wistfully. Bane was such a wonderful father, so different in his approach compared to her father. Perhaps her relationship with her half-sister would be very different today if their father had raised them together. Why hadn't he tried? Had it merely been because he felt Nyssa was better off with her birth mother than with a man in his line of work?

By the time Bane lumbered onto the balcony, the sun had disappeared entirely, leaving only a hint of golden pink on the horizon, her romance novel now concealed under the pillow at her elbow.

"There you are, my love," Bane quietly said, then bent to kiss her. "Just where I thought you would be. Not reading?"

"Just enjoying the sunset."

Bane settled into a matching chair, the small, round wrought iron table between them holding a half-empty glass of red wine, the bottle, and a dish with little cubes of varied cheeses, almost gone.

Taking the glass in hand, she asked, "Would you like a glass or perhaps a sip of mine?"

He glanced at the baby monitor also on the table. "No, thank you, habibati."

"You checked on the children?" More of a statement than a question.

"Indeed. Sleeping deeply."

"What has Barsad decided?"

"They are leaving in the morning."

"Has he spoken to Nyssa?" She never referred to Nyssa as her sister.

"No. I am sure you will excuse my impertinence when I tell you that I told him to leave without seeking her permission."

Talia grinned. "Did you?"

"I told him that I will present his case to Nyssa myself when she arrives here. For Sanjana's sake, I didn't want them to delay their departure or perhaps not be allowed to go at all."

Talia reached to squeeze his hand where it rested on the arm of his chair. Her grin remained. "I admit I do love it when you challenge her."

Bane lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, stirring her as his touch always did. But his eyes revealed a shadow of rebuke. "I did it for Sanjana, not because I look for ways to defy your sister."

Talia's mischievous expression died. She preferred Bane not refer to Nyssa as her sister, but he always persisted. "She _should_ be defied on this. Sanjana needs to be with her mother."

"You can understand why Nyssa might be against them going to India, especially Barsad."

"Of course, but I'm glad you have more sense on this than she might."

Bane grunted. "We shall see."

"You're sending a detail with him, aren't you?"

"Yes, though Barsad insists it is unnecessary. He accepted, though, for Sanjana's and James's sake."

Talia stirred in surprise. "They're taking James?"

"Sanjana wants him to meet his grandmother."

"Hmm. Understandable. Jiddah won't be happy about that, though."

"She isn't. She's already been informed. You must find a way to soothe her."

"I'll try."

Bane popped a cube of cheese into his mouth. As she watched him chew, Talia thought back to the decades when Bane had worn his pain-relieving mask and how he would have to inject himself with morphine whenever he removed the mask to eat. Others had looked upon the mask's tarantula-like presence with fear and revulsion, but Talia never had. She knew the true man beneath it, the beautiful man who had protected her, rescued her, and had nearly lost his life for her. The terrible injuries that the mask hid had been suffered because of her. Men who called Bane a masked monster never would have sacrificed and suffered for another the way Bane had for her. She had always felt guilty for it; that was one of the reasons why she had been so relieved when he finally agreed to have the reconstructive surgery.

"Are you looking forward to your sister's visit?"

She drank more of the wine. "Don't be coy, habibi. You know I'm not, especially because she wouldn't tell you the reason behind. Vague and elusive."

"Traits of your father."

"I'd like to believe his reasons had more merit."

"To think that is unfair to your sister."

"You know I hate it when you defend her."

"I am trying to be objective, my dear. It is my duty." He leaned toward her. "And you know it is my hope that one day you will allow yourself to accept Nyssa."

"She deposed you."

"She rightfully claimed what was hers. And remember, we both voted in her favor."

"Only because of the League's rules of succession."

Bane gave her that age-old look he gave her when she had been a stubborn teenager—a wry, narrow-eyed stare of mild rebuke, chin slightly lowered.

"Don't look at me that way," she scolded.

"Sometimes, my dear, I think you simply enjoy being contrary. Why do you not give your sister a chance?"

"Who says she's interested in a relationship with me?"

"You won't know until you try to find out. She is intimidated by you."

Talia scoffed.

"She sees all that you accomplished as the Demon's Head, and she knows you had a close relationship with your father."

"A _brief_ close relationship, if you remember. I had next to no relationship with him after he excommunicated you so unfairly."

"And to this day I regret being the reason behind the fracture of your relationship with him. But that is neither here nor there in this discussion we are having now, is it? Do not try to redirect the conversation, my little minx. We are discussing you and your sister. I believe she is intimidated by your reputation, and she feels your animosity. That is what might be keeping her from attempting to form a familial bond with you. If she saw you make the first effort, perhaps she would reciprocate."

"What does it matter, Bane? My focus is on our children; hers needs to be on the League, not on forming a sisterly relationship. You're encouraging her to be distracted."

"I am not. I'm not suggesting she spends weeks here, getting to know you. I am merely suggesting that when she comes here on business or to see her mother, you should be less aloof and make some time for her, just the two of you. Whenever she's here, you always make sure you are never alone with her."

Talia knew she should not be surprised by Bane's acute and accurate observations; he was a master at such things. She might fool Abrams or Barsad or occasionally her grandmother but never Bane. Sometimes, like now when it came to his sister, it frustrated her, and she had to struggle to hide it.

She finished her wine and poured more into the glass, avoiding Bane's gaze.

"Habibati," he persisted in that chiding tone she knew too well. "Please tell me that you will put forth an effort when she arrives."

Talia sipped the wine, then held the glass close to her with both hands in almost an embrace, gaze distant. Total night had fallen beyond the chateau's outward glow of lamplight through its many windows.

"Perhaps," Bane continued, "if you made that effort, it will help smooth over any anger she may feel about Barsad leaving without permission. Call it a distraction for the sake of our dear brother and Sanjana."

Talia shifted her attention to study him, saw his small smirk over his new tactic. When he wore that expression, she found it hard to resist him. He looked young and alive. It had not always been that way. Before they had been in their current, committed relationship, he had often been worn down and aged by pain, not just physical pain but the emotional wounds he had suffered in his life—the loss of his mother, the murder of Talia's mother, the death of Temujin, the excommunication from the League, the failure in Gotham. Though he could still summon his ruthlessness as second-in-command of the League, he was no longer one-dimensional, no longer a man with only duty to the organization. With Talia's love and the growth of their family, as well as the banishment of the imprisoning mask, he had grown emotionally and had an astounding ability to be two completely different men.

"So," she said with a tiny smirk of her own, "you want me to do it for Barsad and Sanjana?"

"If for nothing else, then yes."

She blew a soft snort before taking another drink. "Very well, habibi. I will do it for them, and for you because I love you. But I make no promises as to the outcome."

At this, Bane smiled more through his eyes than his lips, amused by her. He stood and reached to gently take the glass from her, setting it on the table.

"Thank you, my love. Now," he took her hand, "I find that your surrender has stirred my blood. Let us take advantage of our children's slumber and permit me to secure your surrender elsewhere."

Talia returned his lustful grin and allowed him to lead her back inside to their bed.


	5. Chapter 5

**IN THE CROSSHAIRS**

 **Chapter 5**

Barsad had seen much of the world, from China to Honduras to Russia to South Africa to points in between, and the places that rankled him the most were places like the Jaipur slums. The stench of raw sewage, the overcrowded populace, the sickness and hopelessness all stirred him to anger at the world's unfairness. The League fought for people such as Sanjana's family, always working in the shadows to bring down the rich and powerful who clung to their obscene wealth and did nothing with it to help the marginalized. These wretched places also made him think of the West Virginia of his youth, where poverty was framed by the land's natural beauty, a beauty that few who lived here in the slums could even imagine. He often described it to Sanjana and James and hoped to one day take his family there. Even the economic hardships of his home valley paled in comparison to this place.

He and his family made their way on foot for this last part of their long journey, Barsad carrying James, because the streets—a loose term here—were too narrow to accommodate a vehicle. Barsad felt vulnerable even though he had two handguns concealed on him and knew his brothers were somewhere nearby, blending with the natives. A shallow trench—more like a rut—ran the length of the street, choked with sewage and other refuse. James kept saying, "Pew!" no matter how often his parents tried to curb his outbursts. All around them, for as far as could be seen, hovel after hovel blocked the horizon, haphazard dwellings made out of all manner of things—cardboard, tin, sheet metal, mud bricks, blankets, and tarpaulins. Just as cramped and varied as the mosaic of dwellings were those who lived there. Young and old, men, women, and children. All under-nourished. The men stood idly by, some in groups, talking and smoking, while the women worked at various tasks—sewing, cooking, cleaning as best they could with time-worn brooms, occasionally calling to children who played in the streets with soccer balls or makeshift cricket bats, sending up a din with their shouts, bare feet kicking up dust. But when people spotted the strangers passing by, everything stopped for a moment, and all stared with suspicion and curiosity.

Barsad wore a battered baseball cap atop his now-blond hair, his face clean-shaven, eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. Concealed in one ear, his earpiece would receive any threat intel from his brothers. He wore drab, loose-fitting clothes. Sanjana had donned one of her simpler outfits that lacked any sign of Western influence.

If Sanjana recognized anyone, she gave no indication and never faltered as she led the way. Her expression grew graver as they continued on, a mixture of sorrow and something else, perhaps guilt over the contrast of how she once lived and how she currently lived. The way everyone stared at her male companion no doubt unsettled her, too. Did she regret coming here?

Quietly he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just wish everyone wasn't staring. Thank goodness, we're almost there."

After a few more minutes and a right-hand turn down a slightly wider avenue, Sanjana came to an abrupt halt.

Barsad touched her arm. "What is it, Sanjie?"

She swallowed hard, eyes fixed ahead. "My home."

Her attention lay upon a shack slightly larger than those surrounding it, perhaps two tiny rooms instead of one, made of sheet metal and tin roof. A young teenaged girl sat on her haunches just outside, dressed in faded clothing, gaze in the dust, hands hanging limp over her knees.

"Kavitha," Sanjana murmured, then louder, "Kavitha."

The girl lifted her listless stare, attention slowly focusing on her older sister. For a moment she didn't react, but when Sanjana started toward her, her expression opened in disbelief. She staggered to her feet as Sanjana reached her and threw her arms around her. Kavitha returned the embrace with the mechanical movement of someone in shock.

"You…you came," she stammered. Then her attention went to Barsad as he drew near, and she moved back a step as if ashamed to have a stranger see her display of affection. Or was it fear?

Turning back to Barsad, Sanjana said, "This is my husband—John."

Barsad smiled and spoke in flawless Hindi. "Hello, Kavitha. I've heard a lot about you."

"Husband?" She looked at Sanjana as if Barsad had not addressed her.

"And this is our son James."

Shy as usual in the company of strangers, James buried his face against his father's shoulder.

Sanjana slipped her arm through her sister's as if to keep her from running. "I will tell you about my family, but first I want to see Mamma." Her focus went through the open door to the shadows of people crowded inside, their Hindi conversations blurred into a jumble.

"Ahil said you would not come," Kavitha said, warily studying Barsad. "I told him you would."

"Of course I would," Sanjana said. "I came as soon as I got Mamma's letter."

"You missed the funeral, the cremation."

"I wish I could have been there."

"Come inside. Mamma will be so happy to see you."

Kavitha tugged her sister through the door, Barsad drifting after them. Inside the hovel, a press of bodies made the small space even hotter and almost smellier than outside. A dozen men, women, and children stood or sat on threadbare rugs and cushions upon the dirt floor, all talking quietly. An older woman sat in one corner, dressed in dingy white, flanked by two women of similar age. Barsad guessed the woman to be Sanjana's mother, Vita, and the other two Sanjana's aunts. All were dry-eyed, as were the others in the dwelling. Sanjana had told Barsad how, unlike Westerners, Hindus avoided displays of sadness following a death, for they believed the deceased were conscious of their relatives' emotions, and overt mourning could inhibit the deceased's transition to their next life.

Near Sanjana's mother, a filled water pot and a lit oil lamp stood near a photo of a man whom Barsad assumed was Sanjana's father. The small lamp provided the room's only illumination besides the natural light coming in through the door and the dwelling's various gaps in the walls and ceiling. As eyes turned Barsad's way, the conversations dropped away, and wariness shadowed all. James kept his face hidden, clinging even tighter.

Sanjana's mother finally looked up as others started to murmur and whisper. Her mouth opened in shock, as if she thought her daughter to be a ghost.

"Maji," Sanjana choked out, tears glazing her eyes.

"Sanjana?" her mother hoarsely uttered.

Sanjana nodded as the murmurs around them increased. Her mother grasped the arm of the woman on her right and started to struggle to her feet, aided by both aunts. Barsad remained near the door as Sanjana rushed to her mother and embraced her. Now the others in the room smiled as realization reached them over the prodigal daughter.

Standing in a corner on the other side of the room, a boy who looked to be around eighteen years old glowered at Barsad, arms crossed, the only one looking at him now instead of at the jubilant mother and daughter. Barsad guessed this to be Ahil, the second eldest son and probably by now the oldest one living at home; Sanjana had figured her eldest brother was married and on his own by now, leaving Ahil as the man of the family.

"Maji," Sanjana said, reclaiming Barsad's attention. She was holding out a hand toward him. "I have someone to introduce to you."

As Barsad shuffled forward, others gave him as wide a berth as the room allowed. Barsad smiled at Vita, who wiped away tears of happiness from eyes even darker than Sanjana's. Bemused, she looked between her daughter and Barsad. Smiling nervously, Sanjana took Barsad's hand, still holding her mother's hand as well.

"Maji, this is my husband, John."

Ahil uncrossed his arms as gasps sounded throughout the gathering. The boy scowled.

"You are married?" her mother stammered.

"Yes. And," she took James into her arms, "this is your grandson, James. James, say hello to your grandmother."

James whimpered and pressed his hands over his eyes. The boy's reluctance drew sympathetic sounds and words from the women in the room, who moved closer.

"He's not used to meeting so many new people at once," Sanjana explained.

Vita did her best to recover from her shock, focusing upon James and avoiding the blond Westerner. Barsad wasn't perturbed; he had expected this. She spoke softly to James and gently rubbed his back, tears still trailing down her dark cheeks.

"I received your letter," Sanjana said. "We came as quick as we could. I'm sorry I missed the funeral."

"It does not matter," Vita said. "What matters is that you came back to us." She gestured to the rug where she had been sitting. "Come and sit. You must be tired from your journey."

"I can stand," Barsad said in Hindi, drawing a surprised glance from Vita and renewed murmurs from the others.

"You are my guest," Vita insisted, gesturing again to the rug.

"Thank you, Maji." Sanjana gave Barsad a look of insistence and obeyed her mother, whispering assurances in James's ear.

As they settled on the rug, James peeked around him, then whimpered for his father. Sanjana surrendered him to Barsad before spending a moment in prayer before her father's photo. Family and friends went back to their conversations, but always cool glances flicked Barsad's way, especially from Ahil whose scrutiny included Sanjana. Barsad hoped Ahil wouldn't treat Sanjana the way their father had. Barsad wouldn't stand for that, but he also didn't want to cause a scene.

Vita's attention rested on James as Sanjana finished her prayer. There was immediate love in her expression and a longing to hold her grandson.

"James," Barsad said. "Don't you want to say hello to Naniji?" Then he smiled at Vita. "He's been so excited to meet you."

Again James chanced a glance around, then at his grandmother. He considered her for a long, wavering moment.

"Would you like to sit on her lap?"

James made a noncommittal noise, rubbed his eyes.

"You look tired, little one," Vita crooned. "Would you like me to rock you to sleep?" She opened her arms and waited.

"He _is_ tired," Sanjana said. "I'm sure after he gets a nap, he won't be so shy."

Her aunts agreed.

Barsad thought of Henri and knew that if Bane's son were here, he would've already introduced himself to everyone and somehow procured food and a toy and a favored spot to sit. He hoped that one day his own son would display such self-confidence.

Though obviously disappointed James wouldn't come to her, Vita said, "I'm sure you are right, daughter. Poor boy." Then she took Sanjana's hand between hers and kissed it. "I am so glad you have returned, even if it is for such a sad occasion. How I have worried about you and missed you. But, now…look at you. Married, and—oh, my—such a beautiful ring."

Barsad had noted how others had already spotted the ring, no doubt calculating its value and what that value could do in their own lives, how their lost relative had obviously married far, far above her station, and what that might mean for them. No doubt it was that thin hope that tempered their suspicious looks or their judgment of Sanjana.

Sanjana blushed at her mother's remarks. "I'm so glad you've finally met my family. I wanted this for so long."

Vita's happy expression faded. "Your father's death has led to this, of course, but you must know that I never agreed with him on his judgment of you. What happened to you…" Her words trailed away, and her gaze flicked to Barsad.

"It's all right, Maji. John knows what happened. We have no secrets from one another."

"What happened to you was never your fault," Vita continued. "The shame was _his_ , not yours. I will always be grateful to Hisham for finding you a place to go. But you must not be employed with Hisham any longer?" She glanced pointedly at the ring.

"I'm not. I'm happy to say that I spend my days with my son, being his mother and taking care of John's household. I no longer have to work for someone else."

"But, if you are no longer working with Hisham, how did you hear the news of your father's passing?"

"My former employer saw to it that I received the contents of the letter."

"Where do you live?"

"My husband's work takes him all over the world," Sanjana said, using the story they had fabricated on the journey to India. "Currently his work is in France. We are staying with friends at the moment."

"France?" Vita echoed, leading to words of surprise from the aunts. "What an exciting life you must live, daughter. I can't even imagine."

"Oh, it's not exciting," Sanjana said, waving a dismissive hand. "But it's a happy life. And now you are a part of my life again. John and I fully intend to help you, Maji, help the family, I mean. We always have wanted to help, but I knew Papa would never allow it."

"You do not owe us anything, Sanjana."

"But we want to help you. What would you do anyway, without Papa's income?"

"I will provide for our family," Ahil suddenly interjected, having edged close during the conversation. He stood above them, shoulders square, fists lightly clenched, his stare fixed upon Barsad with a challenge that amused Barsad, though he hid his reaction.

"Ahil," Vita admonished. "Do not interrupt our guests."

"She is my sister, Maji, not a guest, and I am her brother and the head of this household now. I will speak for this family."

Barsad held up a placating hand. "We meant no disrespect with our offer to aid your family, Ahil. I don't doubt you'll be a good provider for your mother and sisters. We're simply offering to help you provide for them."

"We do not need your help," Ahil insisted.

"Don't be angry, Ahil," Sanjana said with a meaningful glance at their father's stoic photograph.

"This family," Ahil continued, "has survived fine without your charity, sister. You and your…husband can keep your money. You shamed this family once, and now you come here with this rich white man to lord it over us."

"Ahil!" Vita cried, eyes now blazing at her son. "You will not speak to our guests this way, especially at a time like this. Now, go outside until you have regained your senses." When Ahil refused to obey, she barked, "Now!"

Ahil clenched his jaw, glanced over at a couple of intently watching men, then finally stomped out of the dwelling. The two men followed him.

"I am so sorry," Vita said. "Your brother has taken all of this very hard. He acts brave and boastful, but he is merely young and afraid of what his father's death truly means for him."

"No need to apologize," Barsad assured her. "I understand. I lost my father some years ago, too."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"Will you let us help you?" Sanjana asked.

Vita hesitated, looking to the aunt who appeared older than she. The woman nodded hopefully. "Very well," Vita said to Sanjana. "But we do not want to be a burden on your marriage. Your father and I often argued over money. I would not want to be responsible for being the cause of any trouble between you and your husband."

"You won't be, Maji, and you could never be a burden. We're very happy to help."

Vita, of course, had no way of knowing that Barsad and Sanjana had already helped provide for the family in anonymous ways. Quietly, as if to make sure no one else heard, she said, "Thank you." She hurried to change the subject. "How did you meet…your husband?"

Barsad had advised Sanjana to avoid linking him to the El Fadil family, so she said, "I met him in the village near where I worked with Hisham. John was shopping in the bazaar one day when he was in the region on business. I was shopping that day, too. I bought too many things, and when he saw my predicament, he offered to help me carry my things. Then the next time I saw him, he came to my rescue again when a man tried to hurt me."

Barsad knew this was Sanjana's way of alluding to Amir El Fadil raping her while she was working in the palace. Though Barsad had not really rescued her that day—he didn't know about it until afterward—he had exacted revenge with a bullet to Amir's brain shortly after. Sanjana had guessed the assassin to be him, but Barsad had never admitted as much in order to keep her from ever being coerced by the El Fadil family to reveal his guilt. Every now and then she would bring up the subject, but he would laughingly deny his involvement.

"After that," Barsad continued Sanjana's story with a grin, "I made sure my work kept me there longer."

He found James now brave enough to be studying his grandmother. Sanjana caressed his hair.

"And now we have this little one," she said. "He is as sweet as can be. Maybe he will have a brother or sister in a while."

At the mention of a brother, James implored, "'Enwe. Want 'Enwe."

"Henri's not here," Barsad said. "You'll see him in a couple of days."

"Henri is his best friend," Sanjana told her mother. "They are as close as brothers."

"How old are you, James?" Vita asked.

The boy looked up at Barsad, who said, "Tell Naniji how old you are. You know. Show her how smart you are."

Sheepish, James squirmed.

"Go on," Barsad encouraged him.

"One," James whispered to him.

"That's right. Tell Naniji."

Still fidgeting, James at last held up his index finger.

"Sixteen months," Sanjana clarified.

"I can see you are very clever," Vita said to James, drawing a shy smile from him.

Sanjana proceeded to tell her mother everything she could about her son. As she spoke, James began to relax and soon fussed to be held by his mother. Once in her arms and closer to Vita, he sucked on his thumb and studied his grandmother more openly. Now and then he smiled when Sanjana said something flattering about him. Barsad had a feeling it wouldn't be long before he allowed Vita to hold him. As Barsad had hoped, the boy's presence had eased some of the sorrow from Vita's face.

"Where are you staying?" Vita asked.

"A hotel in town," Sanjana lied as instructed. "I can't remember the name."

They were, in fact, staying at the League's safe house in Jaipur.

"You must stay for supper," Vita insisted, then to Barsad, "We honor our dead by eating a meal of their favorite foods. We will start preparing it soon."

"You must let me help, Maji," Sanjana said. Her gaze dropped to her father's photo. "Your letter said he was killed by a car. Do you know what happened?"

Vita frowned. "He had been working a construction site on the other side of town. As he was leaving, a car came speeding down the street. One of his friends saw it happen. He said it was as if the car meant to hit him. Then, afterwards, the car just drove off, as if nothing had happened."

"No one could identify the car after?" Barsad asked, concerned by what Vita had said. A purposeful act or just an accident? If purposeful, why? Had Sanjana's father perhaps owed someone money, someone vengeful?

"No," Vita replied. "But you know how busy the streets are, if you're familiar with Jaipur at all."

"And no one stepped forward afterwards?" he asked.

"No." Vita fought back tears. One managed to escape, catching James's eye.

"Nani cry," James said to his mother.

"She's a bit sad," Sanjana said. "I bet she would feel better if you gave her a hug."

James looked between the two women then at Barsad, who nodded.

"It's all right, Sanjana," Vita said. "I should be stronger than this, for your father's sake."

James wriggled around on his mother's lap so he could fully face Vita. He hesitated a moment before saying, "I hug," then stretched his arms toward his grandmother.

The aunts smiled in satisfaction, and Vita gave a small, grateful laugh as James reached for her.


	6. Chapter 6

**IN THE CROSSHAIRS**

 **Chapter 6**

Bane's hands caressed Talia's caramel-tanned thighs, her quadriceps toned by hours spent on the stationary bike. Those smooth thighs moved up and down as she rode him hard, pushing closer and closer to release. Eyes closed, lips parted, she gasped and moaned. His hands slid to her buttocks, kneading them, urging her onward. Talia's hair flared about her in wild dishevelment from these past hours of lovemaking, a passionate and sometimes almost violent display. This was often the case right before her sister visited Chateau Blanc. Bane never mentioned his observation to her, though he wondered if she realized her extra ardor. He figured if he called it to her attention, she would scoff and dismiss the notion that her aggression had anything to do with renewing her sexual claim upon him. It flattered Bane to think that Talia feared another courting his attention. Surely she must know, after all this time, that his love was for her alone; it would always be that way. He also refrained from broaching the subject because he thoroughly enjoyed the prolonged and energetic sex that preceded Nyssa's visits.

Talia's unadorned fingernails scraped across his rock-like pectorals, then one hand drifted up his neck and chin. Her index finger slipped between his lips, and his tongue teased it, drawing further moans from her. He growled in return. Her pelvis crashed down harder against him, and he knew he could not restrain himself much longer. His right hand slipped between her legs, stroked her. She cried out, this last effort pushing her over the edge, and together they came.

Talia collapsed over top of him, her thighs embracing his hardness, her womanhood still pulsating, hot, as the last of his seed seeped from him. Gently he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her damp hair, breathed in the animal scent of her, closed his eyes, arms encircling her. They lay like that for a long time, early morning light creeping ever closer to their bed. How had they managed to steal this precious time? Usually Henri would be invading their room by now.

As if summoned by Bane's thoughts, Henri's faint voice called to them from beyond the closed door. "Papa Baba! Mama! Wake up!" The doorknob rattled.

Talia groaned. An instant later, the hungry cries of their daughter sounded across the baby monitor on their nightstand. Bane chuckled and opened his eyes. Talia buried her face in a pillow. He kissed her head.

"Rest, my dear," he murmured. "I shall fetch Melisande and keep Henri at bay a moment longer."

"Thank you, habibi. I love you."

"May it always be so," he said with a small smile as he extricated himself from her and the sheets.

His erection easing away, he slipped into a black silk robe and tied the belt securely. All the while his son continued his efforts to gain entry. When Bane opened the door, Henri spilled inward, but before he could charge the bed, Bane scooped him up.

"Put me down," the boy giggled, squirming. "Mama!"

"Leave your mother be." Bane carried him out. "Let us fetch your sister. Don't you hear her crying?"

"Sissy always cries."

"No more than you did at her age."

"Nuh-ah."

"Are you calling me a liar, boy?" Bane teased.

"No, Papa Baba."

"Very well. You may ride on my shoulders, then." In a seamless movement, he lifted the boy to his lofty perch where he ducked and giggled as they moved through the nursery doorway.

When Bane leaned over Melisande's crib, the baby was momentarily distracted from her hungry protests.

"Be quiet, sissy," Henri ordered.

"Hush, boy. Hold tight." Bane leaned down to scoop up his daughter, Henri clinging to him.

"Phew! She peed."

"So she did. And if you don't behave, you shall change her."

"Nuh-ah!"

"You heard me."

Melisande's cries fell to whimpers as Bane kissed her and carried her over to the changing table. By the time she wore a fresh diaper, though, Melisande resumed her clarion call for breakfast, much to Henri's regret. Bane bounced her lightly in his arms as he returned to the master bedroom.

"Make her be quiet, Mama," Henri pleaded.

As soon as Talia took the baby into her arms, Melisande settled. Bane stood there for a moment to enjoy the peaceful sight of his nursing daughter. Jealous as always, Henri demanded to be set down on the bed.

"No, my cub. You and I are going to take a shower. Your Aunt Nyssa should be arriving in a couple of hours, and we must be scrubbed and shining by then. If we hurry, we might have time for a walk after breakfast."

Henri offered no reaction to the reminder of his aunt's visit, especially in front of his mother. The boy had an uneasy relationship with Nyssa thus far, for he sensed his mother's aloofness toward her. When he interacted with her without Talia present, however, Bane saw the boy relax his guard a bit. Nyssa seemed willing to forge a relationship with him, but because she had little experience with children, her efforts were often awkward, and if Talia was in the room, Nyssa usually kept her demeanor more formal. Bane had tried to ease her awkwardness by assuring her that Talia had once been as unaccustomed to motherhood and youngsters as she. Bane figured Nyssa had had few childhood friends, considering how the society she had grown up in frowned upon children born not only out of wedlock but sired by a foreigner, a foreigner who had abandoned her and her mother. And worse yet, he had secretly married another woman.

Nyssa was even less comfortable with her niece. Bane sometimes wondered if Talia had named their daughter after Melisande not only to honor her mother but to serve as a reminder to Nyssa that their father had chosen another woman over Diya Panjabi. Perhaps that was why Nyssa had little time for the baby and had never yet held Melisande.

Bane spent longer in the shower than he wanted to, indulging Henri's enjoyment of the water. After breakfast in their suite with Talia, Bane took Henri for a brief walk in the manicured gardens, where he had to threaten his son with punishment multiple times when he tried to clamber into the various fountains.

By the time they were headed across a stretch of lawn for the rear doors of the chateau, Bane heard the distant, deep thrumming of helicopter blades. Henri followed his father's gaze to the north, then pointed, hopping in excitement.

"Look, Papa Baba! A helicopper!"

"A heli _copter_ indeed."

"Is it Aunt Nyssa?"

"It surely must be, my son. Now run and tell your mother, so she can meet us at the front door. Hurry along."

"Yes, Papa Baba." Away he ran in a blur of excitement, shouting for his mother.

With a smile, Bane watched him go, then moved at a more leisurely pace across the large patio, glancing now and then at the approaching Airbus H125, which flew low over the countryside, growing ever larger. It would land in front of the chateau where the circular drive provided ample room. The debris it would kick up would perturb Hisham and the other servants who would have to clean up afterwards.

Bane hurried through the house to reach the front portico just as the helicopter landed with the gentleness of an eagle upon a nest of eggs. He shaded his eyes from the flying dirt, all worldly sounds consumed by the turbines of the rotating blades. Bane glanced behind him to look for Talia, but of course she would make little effort to hurry. Only a servant stood just outside the door, ready to take charge of Nyssa's belongings. Bane frowned over her stubbornness.

The helicopter remained only long enough for Nyssa and her two-man detail to disembark, their shoulders rounded, heads bent beneath the whirling blades. Then the dark green bird lifted up and started northward.

Nyssa marched toward Bane, the men flanking her, one step behind. Her dark brown eyes latched upon him, and she appeared oblivious to the dust swirled by her departed transport. The artificial wind tugged at her long French braid, pulling out black wisps to dance about the frame of her face and tickle her slightly squared, set jaw. She paid no heed to the servant who scurried out to take her small, dark bag from one of the men. Nyssa wore a red silk blouse that rippled in the breeze, unbuttoned low enough to show her modest cleavage. Bane considered her form-fitting black leather pants a poor choice for the height of summer, as were her ankle boots. Each time she came to Chateau Blanc, she was dressed to the nines, making Bane wonder if she were in some unspoken fashion competition with her stylish sister.

Nyssa's physical similarities with Talia made it easy for anyone to assume their shared lineage. Both were beauties with dark hair and complexion, slim and lithe, nearly the same height. Their eyes, however, were much different, not just in color—Nyssa had Diya's deep brown shade—but in intensity. While Talia's indigo gaze could conceal her true emotions, Nyssa had yet to master that skill. Bane was unsure if Nyssa even cared to learn the art. She preferred to shoot from the hip, both figuratively and literally. A blessing and a curse to Bane thus far.

As she neared Bane, he raised his voice to be heard over the lingering helicopter noise. "Welcome, sister."

"Let's not linger outside," Nyssa said unnecessarily as she broke stride only long enough for Bane to fall in step beside her.

Bane refrained from assuring her of their security here. By now she already knew this but remained cautious, nonetheless. Perhaps she meant her comment as an insult, a doubt about his safety measures. Yes, she was here for some sort of battle, he could easily tell. But who was her opponent—her sister or her second in command?

Her two hand-picked bodyguards were men who had only been with the League about a year, a telling detail to Bane. This reflection gave Bane an idea as to why Nyssa wanted to meet with him. Time would tell if his suspicion was correct, a suspicion he had shared with no one, not even Talia. Neither bodyguard acknowledged him beyond stoically meeting his gaze before he stepped next to their mistress.

"Where is Talia?" Nyssa demanded as they passed into the shade of the portico, insult in her tone over what she viewed as an affront. "And Barsad? Taking their leisure, I assume?"

"Barsad had pressing business elsewhere, which I will tell you about after you have had time to visit with your mother." He gestured to Diya Panjabi, who was just then hurrying from the front door, no doubt drawn from her cottage by the helicopter's appearance.

Nyssa's scowl changed into a loving smile. She hurried to meet Diya, embraced and kissed her.

"You have lost weight, daughter," the older woman lamented.

Bane could tell by Diya's quick scrutiny of Nyssa's attire that she did not approve of her choice. Diya herself always wore traditional Indian dress. It was bad enough that she had lost her only child to the League, but Nyssa's complete dismissal of her humble roots in Rajasthan troubled Diya still. Bane wondered if she would ever accept Nyssa's choices.

"I will make you supper tonight," Diya said. "All your favorite dishes."

"I look forward to it, Maji."

"You will be staying with me, won't you? Your room is all prepared."

"Of course. But I'll only be here for one night."

Diya's happy expression faded. "Surely you can stay for two? What's one extra night when I see so little of you?"

"I'm sorry, Maji." Nyssa turned her toward the front door and urged her forward. "I have too much to oversee. Perhaps next time."

"You always say that, but it never happens."

"Not 'never,' Maji," Nyssa cajoled. "Don't be dramatic."

"Maysam is so lucky to have Talia here all the time. Bane," she said, surprising him, "couldn't you relieve Nyssa for a day or two?"

Bane hid his mixture of amusement and sympathy for the lonely woman. "I serve at the pleasure of the Demon's Head. If she were to request it, I would obey."

"See, daughter, you have only to ask."

They paused inside the doorway where Nyssa kissed her mother's cheek again. "Not now, Maji. I must discuss some things with Bane, then I will be down to the cottage."

Diya frowned but did not press the matter further. "Very well. I'll have tea waiting for you."

As she turned and trailed away through the house toward the back door, Henri's voice echoed from the second floor, "Hurry, Mama!" accompanied by his rushing footsteps. He raced down the stairs. "Hello, Aunt Nyssa." He halted next to Bane and hugged his leg, hid slightly behind it. "Mama is coming. I told her to hurry."

Nyssa's demeanor softened, and she smiled at the boy. "Thank you, Henri. How are you?"

"Good." He absently put his thumb in his mouth, something he rarely did.

Talia descended the sweep of staircase, carrying Melisande in her arms. As she approached Nyssa, she offered no explanation for her tardiness, simply saying, "Hello, Nyssa."

"Hello, sister. Hello, little one." Nyssa rarely addressed or referred to Melisande by name, no doubt a lingering resentment over the child's grandmother.

Melisande gurgled and stretched out one hand toward Nyssa before drawing it back so she could suck on her fist.

"How long will you be staying?" Talia asked.

"Just tonight." Nyssa turned to Bane. "Shall we go to your office?"

"Of course. Will Talia be a part of our meeting?"

Talia quickly said, "There's no need, I'm sure."

"It appears my sister has her hands full," Nyssa said with something bordering on condescension.

"Maysam can watch the children, if necessary," Bane said.

"It's not necessary," Nyssa insisted. "You may discuss our meeting with her afterwards. I prefer to meet with you alone on this matter. It's a delicate subject."

Talia looked both relieved and insulted, gently bouncing her daughter. "Very well. Will you be having lunch here or at the cottage?"

Nyssa smiled slightly. "To appease my mother, I'll be eating with her."

Bane feared that Talia would say, "Good," but fortunately she only said, "Very well. Henri, come with me."

"I wanna stay with Papa Baba."

"You heard your mother," Bane growled, not wanting Talia defied by their son in front of Nyssa. He gave the boy a pointed stare and pulled him away from his hold on his legs.

Though Henri huffed and whined once, he begrudgingly obeyed, trailing Talia to the stairs. Once at the foot of the staircase, his energy returned and he said, "Race me, Mama," before flying up the stairs far ahead of Talia.

Bane watched proudly, then said to Nyssa, "He would like to show you his katana skills while you are here."

"Isn't he a bit young to be wielding sharp weapons?" Nyssa asked with a wry smile.

"It is not that sharp." Bane chuckled over his son's budding skills and Maysam's insistence that any blade Henri wielded be dull.

"Training him already to replace me?" A teasing light spark in her eyes, a moment when her humor reminded him of Talia.

"Training him because he asks to learn what he sees his father and our brothers here doing to maintain our skills. He is always game to try anything. He is curious and fearless."

"I'd enjoy seeing his katana work, or anything he wants to show me."

"Thank you. Shall we?" He made a sweeping motion with his arm toward the doorway to Nyssa's left.

Bane led her through the gallery, a room of some thirty-five meters in length, adorned with paintings from several masters from around the world. An ornate skylight and eighteen windows filled the space with natural light. As they passed through this room, Bane asked how her journey from Croatia had gone. When they reached the doorway that led into the music room, Nyssa ordered one of her bodyguards to remain there while the other accompanied her inside. As the trio moved to the recessed office space at the near end of the room, Nyssa flicked her fingers, and the remaining bodyguard halted just this side of the alcove-like space.

Instead of sitting behind the desk, Bane gestured to the left, to a pair of chairs crafted from the same wood as the desk with richly upholstered padding. After turning on the desk lamp to offer muted light in the windowless recess, he sat, angling the chair slightly toward Nyssa. She sat somewhat stiffly, somewhere between the chair's front edge and the backrest.

"So where is Barsad, Bane?" she cryptically asked.

Bane shifted deeper in the chair so his lower back was supported, for he had yet to don his support belt today. "We received word that Sanjana's father died. As you can imagine, Sanjana wanted to return to India to spend some time with her family. You may recall her father had disowned her, so it has been quite some time since she has seen her mother and siblings. Barsad accompanied her. They should be back in two days."

Nyssa bridled, shoulders pulled back, mouth tightening. "He didn't request a leave."

"There was little time for that. I told him I would take responsibility for his absence."

"That wasn't your decision to make, Bane. He is my third in command, not some lower level operative whose absence we can afford. He knows the chain of command, and he knows when it comes to either of you, only I can grant a leave of absence."

"As I said, I take full responsibility for his actions."

"Do you think me a fool? Of course you would say this with Barsad gone, so he can't incriminate himself; no doubt he's already in Jaipur. Maybe you gave him permission, though you knew better, or maybe Barsad left without even that. Either way, I will hold him accountable for his breech of protocol. In the meantime, you will contact him and order him to return immediately. If Sanjana chooses to stay, then she won't be allowed back here at all."

"His presence there has not compromised anything—he has an escort."

"So you also allowed an allocation of our resources to waste time on Barsad's personal issues?"

"Considering where he was traveling," Bane said calmly, careful to keep his restless fingers still on the smooth wood of the chair's arms, "I felt it a necessity. Barsad did not request it; it was my mandate."

"Call him."

"I will. As soon as we are done here."

Nyssa wavered, anger building. He could tell she wanted to demand his immediate, witnessed obedience, yet she also knew to do so would reveal not only a mistrust of him but a weakness in her own belief that her orders would be carried out without her standing over her subordinates like a schoolteacher.

"In a way," she began, settling back with obvious effort, "I'm glad this happened. It provides further proof for my suspicions."

"Suspicions?"

"Yes—the reason why I came here to speak to you and Barsad in person."

Bane waited, careful not to show any emotion. Hisham quietly appeared with a tray holding a pitcher of iced lemonade and another of iced tea, along with chilled glasses.

"Good morning, ma'am." Hisham set the tray on the corner of the desk and bowed.

"Good morning, Hisham."

"Do you prefer lemonade or tea?"

"Lemonade. Thank you."

"And you, sir?"

"The same."

After pouring and setting the glasses on coasters on the small round table between Bane and Nyssa, Hisham asked, "Will you be needing anything else?"

"No, Hisham," Nyssa said. "Thank you."

The servant left them, casting an almost suspicious glance at the nearby bodyguard.

"You were saying…?"

Nyssa cleared her throat. "Barsad's wonton disrespect for my authority doesn't surprise me; he's never given me a chance to prove myself. I expected him to be here for this meeting so I could ask him face to face."

"Ask him what?"

"If he's the ringleader of the faction that wants to see me deposed and Talia or you as the League's commander again."

Bane showed no reaction to the confirmation of his suspicions as to why Nyssa had come here. He had sensed unrest among his brothers. Training Nyssa had not raised much concern among the rank and file, undoubtedly because most expected her to fail, but since her initiation and the council's decision to uphold the rule of familial succession, he had heard that there were several senior members, as well as others influenced by them, who deeply disagreed with her ascendance. None were foolish enough to express their views to him, but a couple had made carefully worded remarks to Barsad. Barsad, of course, had told Bane, barely able to conceal his sympathy for the subversive cause. He wisely refrained from naming his source, claiming the information was merely passed through other operatives, not from the rebels themselves. Bane had not pressed him for details, instead telling Barsad to quash such talk, should he hear more of it. Bane had expected some dissension—he knew how deeply loyal the men were to him when he had been in command—and he had been prepared to let them vent for a time, but if they took it too far, he would have to act.

"When you first presented yourself to us at the palace," Bane started deliberately, "you came at a delicate moment for Barsad."

"Delicate?" Nyssa barked a cynical laugh. "There's nothing delicate about John Barsad."

"Hear me out," Bane said as almost an order rather than a request, his eyebrows lowering. "The life of his first child hung in the balance. Of course your unexpected appearance and your claims concerned him. He had no idea your birthright claim had any validity. For all he knew, you were an assassin or double agent."

"At first, sure. But even after my DNA test proved I was telling the truth, he was set against me."

"Your DNA proved your heritage, yes, but to Barsad, it did not rule out that you were the undercover agent of some government, sent to destroy the League from within. Even now, he is not convinced. That is why he continues to be aloof around you. Perhaps if he did not have a family, he would be more willing to accept you for who you are."

"You have a family and you seem to accept me, at least more than Barsad has. A soldier doesn't have to love his commander, Bane, but encouraging dissension among the ranks is irresponsible and dangerous, as well as intolerable."

Bane scowled. "Neither one of us has any proof that he is guilty of such behavior."

"But we both agree he is personally against me."

"Being cautious and being treasonous are very different things, and you are assuming the latter. You say Barsad isn't giving you the benefit of a doubt, yet you are doing the same to him."

"As the Demon's Head, I can't afford to do otherwise. If I let this fester, it could tear the League apart. We both know Barsad has a lot of influence with our brothers."

"As you are aware, I have known Barsad for a long time. We are as close as two men can be, so close that one would be hard-pressed to conceal something from the other. I believe your suspicions have no merit. However," he quickly added when she opened her mouth to disagree, "I will speak with him directly about this matter."

" _I_ will speak with him," Nyssa insisted, matching Bane's scowl.

"I think we can both agree that such a discussion will be best received coming from me. As I said, no one knows him better than I. He will not be elusive with me as he might with you."

She considered this while sipping her lemonade. "I believe he would respect me more if I addressed the issue with him. I don't want him thinking I'll make others do my bidding in matters like this."

"Then I suggest a compromise—we will speak with him together. A united front. However, I maintain you would be better served by allowing me to speak with him alone."

Nyssa turned the glass around in her hand, stared at it. "We'll do it together. We are, after all, both his superiors. You will call him immediately after this meeting and have him return right away. I can't stay here long. As you know, we have many operations that I need to oversee. Tell him I expect him back here no later than tomorrow. If he refuses to come, he will suffer the consequences."

"Meaning?"

"At the very least, he will lose his rank."

Bane hid his displeasure. He knew Nyssa was not bluffing. It was obvious the hint of rebellion in the ranks had shaken her. Somehow he needed to convince his best friend to take Nyssa's threats seriously. Making an example of Barsad would certainly grab the attention of the brethren and shake some of their resolve. Yet Bane could also imagine it fueling the fire of dissent. Either way, he needed to get Barsad back here as soon as possible.


	7. Chapter 7

**IN THE CROSSHAIRS**

 **Chapter 7**

The burner cellphone in Barsad's pocket buzzed. He knew only one person would be calling him right now. So did Sanjana, who paused in her conversation with her mother to look at him with concern.

"Excuse me," Barsad said to Vita. "I have to take this."

He answered the call as he quickly stepped outside.

"I am sorry to interrupt your day, brother," Bane said. "But, of course, this call is no surprise to you."

"No. I've been waiting for it. I take it she arrived."

"Yes, and we have spoken at length."

"It's safe to assume she's pissed about me being here."

"Indeed. She wants you back immediately."

"'Course she does. Well, she's just gonna have to wait until tomorrow. Sanjana's family is having a special meal later to honor her father. No way I'm making her miss that."

"I understand, brother, and though it is my duty to order your immediate return, as directed by our sister, your compliance is your own affair. Obviously I cannot physically compel you, nor do I want to, for Sanjana's sake. I hope all is going well there."

"Yeah, as well as can be expected. Her brother isn't too keen on me, but Vita's been great. Jimmy's starting to warm to her, too."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"So what made our commander come all the way to talk to you?"

"As you know, I cannot speak candidly over this form of communication, but I will tell you that the matter she came to discuss has a direct impact on you, thus her displeasure at finding you gone."

Barsad grinned. "Too bad. I hope you didn't take the fall for me."

"I was judicious in my choice of words."

"Which means you took the fall. You should've just told her the truth—it was my idea."

"She suspects the truth in the matter, of course. I will tell her you will leave there first thing in the morning. Will that suffice?"

"It'll break Sanjie's heart…and her mother's."

"There will be opportunity for another reunion in the future. That should help soothe them."

"I hope so."

"I must warn you that disobeying her and delaying until tomorrow may have unpleasant consequences."

"Yeah, so be it. I'm doing this for Sanjana, not me. She should realize that."

"She also wants you to know that Sanjana must return with you. She says if she does not, then she will forfeit her ties to you."

"That bitch."

"Caution, brother. You must understand the security reasons behind this."

"Yeah, yeah, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Just make sure you can convince Sanjana to return now, not later after you."

"She'll understand. You know her."

"Indeed. Very well, then, brother. I will take no more of your precious time there. Enjoy your stay."

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

###

Barsad sat cross-legged on the ground, a chipped plate in his lap, heaped with food. Around him, Sanjana's family and friends also ate, some sitting, some standing, some inside the hovel, some outside in front, others in back with Barsad. The scent of cooking hung about all of them, trying to overpower the smell of cigarettes, which some of the men who were finished with their meal smoked. Barsad fought away the urge to light up, something he always used to do after a meal.

The food and its wide array of spices appealed to him, and he marveled at the quantity in such a poverty-stricken place. The women of the family and of the neighborhood had been slaving over the preparations since shortly after Barsad and Sanjana had arrived. Barsad had offered to purchase anything needed for the special meal, but Sanjana had discouraged him, afraid it might injure the women's pride.

"Or Ahil's," Barsad had said with a wink.

"Yes, especially Ahil," Sanjana replied.

Now, Sanjana came toward him from the hovel, James tottering in her wake. She had already fed the boy and now would enjoy her own meal. James fell slightly behind, distracted by the guests who spoke his name and tried to coax him near. When he realized his mother had slipped away, he hurried after her, stumbled and fell onto his hands and knees.

"Mommy," he called, bottom lip trembling.

Sanjana settled next to Barsad. "Come on," she encouraged their son.

He sat back in tired defeat.

"Come to Daddy," Barsad said, holding out his hand. "You can do it."

James seemed to consider crying, but when he noticed how everyone was looking at him, he struggled up and staggered toward his father. Barsad had to hold his plate high to keep the child from spilling it as he collapsed into his lap and rubbed his tiny fists against his eyes.

"I think someone is tired," Barsad observed.

James situated himself so he could watch the strangers around him. The boy had relaxed a little around Sanjana's people, mainly her mother, but still preferred to stay close to his parents, watching curiously. Thankfully he no longer said, "Phew!" to most everything. Everyone seemed to accept him; Barsad, however, was another matter. Few cared to interact with him except Kavitha and Vita. The former currently sat next to him, making funny faces at James to try to draw him out. Now and then she garnered a shy smile from James, who would then turn his face into his father's shirt and squirm.

"He likes you, Kavitha," Barsad said, finishing his kadhi with a lick of his lips.

"Surprising," Sanjana teased her sister. "Kavitha used to say she would never have children. Looks like maybe she has changed her mind, yes, sister?"

Kavitha scoffed and nibbled at her serving of mohan thaal. She glanced at Barsad then away. Barsad had the distinct feeling that his foreign looks intrigued the young woman. She had been asking him some probing questions before Sanjana's return, as if she knew he wasn't exactly what he was leading them to believe. Barsad had been amused by her persistence and insight.

"A lot of good-looking men around here, from what I can tell," Barsad said with a wry smile for Kavitha's benefit. "No doubt you've caught the eye of many of 'em."

Kavitha scoffed again. "I want to go away to school. If I marry someone here, I will have to stay here."

"You don't go to school now?" Barsad asked, not surprised by her revelation.

"No." She stared hard at the rear doorway of their shack.

"Maybe I can help with that."

Kavitha's attention snapped back to him, showing a brief flare of hope, but then the gleam died just as quickly as it had come, and she looked away. "I cannot leave Maji. She needs my help, especially now that my father is gone."

"We're going to help your family," Barsad said, keeping his voice low so no one else could hear. "You can go to school."

"Ahil will not let you help us," Kavitha grumbled. "He is a fool."

"He's just proud," Barsad said. "And he's hurting right now. He'll come around."

"I doubt it. He laughs at me whenever I talk about going to school. I want to become a doctor."

Barsad had a brief image of Kavitha serving as one of the League's physicians. He liked the girl; she was a rebel. Though respectful of her elders, she didn't always strictly adhere to the restrictive dictates of her culture, sometimes voicing opinions that raised the eyebrows of relatives or grumbling words half under her breath that only Barsad seemed to hear. Perhaps if he had a daughter one day, she might be as strong-willed as Kavitha. Or, he cautioned himself, a girl with such qualities might remind him too much of Talia and Nyssa and make his duties as her father even more challenging than being James's parent. He saw how Bane had his hands full with Talia, and who knows what type of girl Melisande would become with such a mother and aunt. Barsad chuckled to himself—thank God for Maysam; she was always the bridge over troubled waters when it came to the women in his and Bane's lives.

"If you want to become a doctor," Barsad said to Kavitha, loud enough for others to hear, "I'm sure you'll be one. You're a smart girl."

An uncharacteristic blush flustered Kavitha. "Thank you," she stammered. "It is nice to have _someone_ understand."

"I understand as well, sister," Sanjana said. "I have faith in you."

"Thank you." Kavitha's eyes flashed at various guests, none offering any supportive words, a couple of the men shaking their heads and murmuring to each other.

James had been watching her closely during this exchange, chewing on one finger. Barsad could tell Kavitha intrigued his son. While he had shied away from the children closer to his age among the guests, he had studied Kavitha from the safety of his mother's arms or from behind his father's legs. He even tried to say her name once, but it came out as "'Vitha," and he said it so quietly that no one but Barsad heard it. Barsad knew the two would become closer in time. But would they ever have that time? After all, it wasn't as if Sanjana's family could come to Chateau Blanc, and he figured Nyssa wouldn't allow him back here, now that she had heard he was AWOL. Barsad frowned at the thought of telling Sanjana that they had to leave in the morning.

They spent nearly two more hours there, listening to family and friends regaling them with stories of Sanjana's father. Barsad was glad few interacted with him—easier that way not to have to tell lie after lie about his life. When James grew fussy from fatigue, Barsad murmured to Sanjana that it was time to go.

"We can come back tomorrow, can't we?" she asked, almost desperate.

"For a little while," he said, unsure if this was a lie or not. "Time to go, sleepy head," he called to James, who was now curled up in his grandmother's lap, half asleep, on the other side of Sanjana.

Surprisingly, the boy showed no inkling of wanting to leave. Barsad's cause wasn't helped by Vita giving James a protective squeeze and making a reluctant sound.

"Stay here," James mumbled.

"I'm afraid not," Barsad said, helping Sanjana to her feet.

The nearby aunts saw this movement and hurried over to say good-bye to James.

"He could spend the night with us," Vita said hopefully, one hand smoothing James's hair. "You will be coming back in the morning, of course?"

"Yes," Sanjana said, a touch of nervousness for her son in her voice now. "Thank you, Maji, but James isn't old enough to understand if I left him here. You would be afraid, wouldn't you, sweetheart?"

James looked between the two women then at the aunts, who all insisted he would be fine, speaking over one another in their efforts to assure Sanjana.

"Do you want to stay with your nani?" Vita asked hopefully, eyebrows raised. "I will tell you bedtime stories. You can sleep with me and Kavitha. Wouldn't that be fun?"

James, seeing his mother on her feet now, squirmed and said, "Mommy stay?"

"I am afraid not, sweetie," Sanjana said. "But we will come back tomorrow. I promise."

James seemed to consider then said matter of factly, "Okay."

Vita frowned sadly. "Will you at least give your nani a kiss good-bye?"

The child hesitated. Perhaps her disappointed expression won him over because he finally gave her a quick peck on the cheek then scrambled to his feet. He held his arms up toward Sanjana, but Barsad intervened.

"I'll carry you. Your mother is tired."

It happened the instant Barsad bent down. All in less than the time it took to blink. The sensation of something small and swift past his ear; the all to familiar sound of a fleshy target struck; the splatter thrown outward drawing gasps from those closest, including Vita. Instinct drove Barsad to the ground, covering James with his body. A flicker of confused silence as Barsad's attention went to Sanjana's prone form, then an eruption of screams from the women. Sanjana lay across her mother's lap, the tangerine scarf about her head now stained crimson. Vita stared at her dead daughter, hands reaching for her.

"Get down!" Barsad shouted. "Everyone, get down, damn it!"

"Daddy," James complained, struggling beneath him.

With one hand restraining James, Barsad reached for Sanjana with the other. Vita kept saying her daughter's name.

"Get inside!" Barsad ordered everyone. "Vita…Vita! Take James; hurry. I'll get Sanjana."

The guests shoved their way inside any nearby shack or dove behind any flimsy nearby wall, fearful, confused, talking in a jumble. Barsad drew Sanjana's limp form from Vita, who was now sobbing hysterically, her daughter's blood staining her clothes.

"Take James," Barsad ordered again. "Hurry! Stay low. Get inside."

Barsad, however, didn't expect another shot. Instinctively he knew he had been the target, and because the sniper had tried and failed to hit him, he would be on the move, figuring Barsad had backup. If he did not, then this wasn't over. How had someone known his whereabouts?

Tapping his earpiece, Barsad spoke to his team. "Sniper fire. From the west. Not many elevated buildings to hide in. Find him. Find him, God damn it."

"Yes, sir."

Vita had managed to regain enough of her wits to take hold of James's hand. Her sobs and the pandemonium around him frightened him to tears.

"Mommy!"

"Go with Nani, son," Barsad urged as he pulled Sanjana to him and crawled toward the back door of the hovel, Vita just ahead of him.

"Sanjana's been shot," voices inside repeated in disbelief.

"What?"

"How?"

"Who has a gun?"

"What are you saying? Shot?"

The questions blurred in Barsad's mind as grief and rage overpowered the initial shock and trained defensive response. Now concealed inside, he pillowed Sanjana's bloody head in his lap.

"Get a blanket," someone said. Was it his own voice?

The family and friends inside had fallen back against the walls, crouching, staring, voices hushed and eyes wide, packed against one another, the women all crying, including Kavitha who had crept over, hands to her mouth. The small space suffocated Barsad as he found the horrid exit wound on the right side of Sanjana's head. She had not suffered, of course; she never would have realized she was struck.

"Mommy!" James's cries clawed through the humming in Barsad's head. Through tears, Barsad saw him in Vita's arms, the older woman seated in a nearby heap, rocking back and forth, wailing her daughter's name. Barsad knew he should try to console his son, but he couldn't let go of Sanjana as the warmth left her body.

Someone produced a threadbare blanket. Barsad spread it over her, bloody hands trembling. He kissed her lips before closing her eyes and veiling her face.

"What has happened?" Ahil demanded, shoving his way through the others, having come from somewhere outside. "They said someone's been shot." His words fell away when he saw the shrouded figure in Barsad's lap. Quickly the boy looked around as if to see who was missing. He stared at Barsad, said, "Sanjana?" before his attention dropped again to the blanket. "This is your fault, isn't it? This is about you. Who did this? Who killed my sister?"

"My men are trying to find the shooter," Barsad said, quiet and measured. "For now, everyone stays inside."

"Your men?" Ahil continued. "What do you mean?"

"My security detail."

"Why do you need security? What kind of man needs security?" He looked at his mother, as if to tell her that his initial suspicion had been well-founded. Vita's tear-filled eyes lifted almost fearfully to Barsad.

"Mommy!" James continued to cry and reach for Sanjana, but Vita held him tighter, as if to protect him from his father.

Barsad gently shifted Sanjana so he could allow James to come to him, ignoring Ahil's continued harangue against him which silenced all other talk in the hovel. He held his arms toward James and gestured for Vita to release the boy. The women hesitated, but when James reached for his father and wriggled in her grasp, she finally surrendered him. She moved to her daughter as Barsad wrapped his arms around his sobbing son, kissed him, whispered soothingly into his ear.

"Get out of here!" Ahil shouted at Barsad, pointing toward the street. "Get out of here before someone else dies because of you."

For a fleeting moment, as all eyes focused on him alone, Barsad thought they might attack him. Perhaps they would if not for James.

"Listen to me, Ahil," he said calmly. "I'll leave, but not until I can do so safely. I have to protect James. You may blame me and hate me, but James had nothing to do with this."

"Leave him with us, then, and get out," the young man snarled.

James turned to look down at his mother, whom Vita now held across her lap, rocking back and forth, sobbing, her sisters pressed against her in consolation, Kavitha sitting behind them in shock. The boy stretched one arm toward Sanjana.

"Mommy!"

Barsad softly breathed, "Shh… Mommy's sleeping."

"Wake up, Mommy!"

He hushed James again and rocked slightly side to side to try to distract him.

"I said get out," Ahil repeated, standing almost on top on Barsad.

"I suggest you sit down," Barsad said through gritted teeth. "That shooter might riddle this house with bullets in the hope that he might find his target unseen." Barsad doubted the sniper would do this; it would be a waste of precious time to retreat or displace now that he had made himself known. With no visual of his target, he would have little chance of a lucky shot through the hovel's walls and no way to confirm his success and report it to whomever had hired him.

One of the male relatives urged Ahil to listen to reason. Begrudgingly the young man crouched, a flash of fearful realization in his furtive gaze.

Barsad's attention fell upon the lamp lit for Sanjana's father, barely seen amidst the people smashed together in here, somehow undisturbed. The flame flickered weakly. Numb, he heard a ringing in his ears as he remembered the story of the man's death. Seemingly random, freakish in its nature. Then he looked to his beloved Sanjana, to her blackening blood on the dirt floor, and with cold realization he knew he had been set up.


	8. Chapter 8

**IN THE CROSSHAIRS**

 **Chapter 8**

From where she reclined on a padded lounge chair, Talia watched Bane step out of the swimming pool, Henri clinging to him piggyback. Water streamed from his bulging muscles like a waterfall spilling down a granite rockface. His black swim trunks outlined his resting manhood and accentuated his slim hips, those hips she loved to embrace with her legs during lovemaking. His bare torso widened upward into broad shoulders with mountainous trapezoids. Talia felt as if she were watching a volcanic island birthed by the sea after a violent underwater earthquake. The sight pleased her not only for its sexual power but because Bane did not often allow himself such moments of leisure, like this afternoon at the pool, especially when Nyssa was here. His discipline sometimes made her feel guilty for her life of relative ease, though she knew Bane wanted this for her, to devote herself to their children.

Henri pleaded, "Stay in the pool with me, Papa Baba."

"I have work to do, Jin. You may swim as long as you like. Your mother is staying a bit longer, aren't you, my love?" Bane bent down to kiss her.

"Yes," Talia said. "Another hour, I think."

"Your aunt should be coming to swim soon, Jin. Perhaps she will play sea serpent with you."

Henri loved playing this game, wherein he floated upon a raft and Bane swam beneath him and surprised him by roaring to the surface and splashing him, then chasing him as the boy giggled and squealed and desperately paddled to stay out of reach. Sometimes Bane tugged him underwater with him, to emerge a moment later, both laughing. Talia loved seeing them enjoy each other. Occasionally she joined them, but she preferred to allow the pair time together.

"When is Uncle John coming home?" Henri asked for the tenth time that day.

"Tomorrow," Bane said, picking up a towel from his chair, which was situated under a large yellow umbrella. He did not worship the sun as Talia did.

"Jimmy, too?"

"Of course, darling," Talia said, dark sunglasses hiding her eyes.

"And Aunt Sanji?"

"Yes," Bane said, crouching. "Now dismount. I must dry off."

Reluctant, Henri sighed and slid off him. Then he cried, "Watch me!" and ran to the diving board and cannon-balled into the crystal-clear water. No flotation devices. Bane and Talia had scoffed at such things when Maysam purchased the kind that went around each arm. No, his parents had taught him how to swim as a mere infant. Not one fearful tear had been shed by Henri, though Maysam had nearly fainted the first time they had put him in the pool. Even Abrams had been a little concerned about their methods. It would be the same with Melisande, though Bane had admitted feeling a bit worried. His daughter seemed so fragile to him compared to Henri. Talia, however, had no such misgivings about their daughter and assured Bane that his concern lacked merit.

Bane dried himself off then wrapped the towel around his waist, watching Henri swim to a ladder so he could run to the diving board again.

"Watch me!" the boy demanded.

"We're watching, darling," Talia said.

Bane chuckled as Henri leaped through the air again and sent water flying. Then he bestowed another kiss on Talia's smiling lips before saying, "I have some work to do, phone calls to make, and all is best done away from our rambunctious cub if I hope to be productive. I trust you will remain here at least for a time with your sister. I see her coming now."

With an unpleasant feeling stirring in her gut, Talia glanced toward the gravel lane that led to Diya Panjabi's cottage back in a grove of trees. Nyssa, alone, walked up the lane, long, bare legs showing below a dark green cover-up, the hint of a yellow bikini beneath the sheer fabric. Inadvertently, Talia gave a small, "Hmmph."

"That is not the answer I wish to hear," Bane scolded.

She could not suppress a slight simper. "I promise to be civil, habibi."

"I hope—and insist—that you are more than that, my sweet. If you can't make the effort for me or for your own sake, then do it for Barsad. Perhaps you can defuse her anger concerning his unauthorized absence."

"I will do my best."

"Thank you."

"Will you check on Melisande and Jiddah? If she would like a break, she could bring our daughter to me."

"It is too hot for Meli out here."

Talia chuckled at his over-protectiveness. "She will be in the shade of an umbrella."

"Even that is too warm. Besides, you know your grandmother never tires of watching that babe." He waved off Talia's next remark and turned to leave, assuring her that he would peek in on their daughter.

Talia considered remaining prone on the lounge when her sister arrived but, with a sigh for Bane's persistence, she raised the back so she was sitting up. Henri clambered up the pool ladder in the deep end again and came toward her.

"Did you see me dive, Mama?"

"Yes, darling. Beautiful form, just like your papa."

His attention turned to Nyssa as she came toward them. "Aunt Nyssa, Mama says I dive as good as Papa Baba."

Nyssa's smile was tempered. "I'm sure she's right. Why don't you give me a demonstration?"

Henri seemed to suddenly remember Talia's usual attitude toward his aunt, so he hesitated, momentarily shy, scuffing his toes against the warm cement.

"Go ahead, sweetheart. Show her."

A grin broke out on the child's face, and he darted onto the diving board. At the end, he paused to make sure they were watching him, then he hopped up and down, barely getting a response from the board, before plunging into the water. When he surfaced, both women cheered his efforts. From there, he went to the shallow end and proceeded to fill his large squirt gun with water.

Talia glanced at her sister as Nyssa removed her cover-up. "Help yourself to the fruit." She gestured to a nearby table, shaded by a blue umbrella. "And the iced tea."

"Thanks, but I'm still stuffed from the lunch my mother made." Nyssa spread one of the luxurious white towels, taken from the same table, upon a lounger a few feet from Talia.

"Your mother is a wonderful cook. I admit I've missed her in the kitchen."

During the time that Nyssa had been training with the League, before anyone knew if she would ultimately be initiated, her mother had been required to work in servitude to Maysam. Both Diya and Nyssa had resented the arrangement, but Bane had insisted upon it. Talia knew he had done this not only because the League could not take any chances letting Diya return to her life in Rajasthan, knowing that Bane, Talia, and Barsad had survived the siege of Gotham, but because it gave Diya a purpose, something to occupy her hands and mind while separated from Nyssa. Talia smiled wistfully to herself; Bane knew all too well from years in prison the torture of idleness.

Talia had always tried to be kind to Diya, both during her time of servitude and after Nyssa's ascendance, for she felt sorry for the woman—Diya's lot in life had been determined by her daughter, not by herself; she had been given no choices. No doubt Diya wondered what would happen to her if her daughter were to meet an untimely death. Both Maysam and Talia regularly invited Diya to dine with them, but the woman rarely accepted, and when she did, she contributed little in way of conversation at table. They also reminded her that she was always welcome to forsake the cottage for a room in the chateau. Such offers were always met with a cool declination.

Nyssa sat and began to apply sunscreen. "Where's your daughter?"

"With Jiddah. Bane prefers Melisande remain inside on such hot days. Henri, however, is another matter; he thrives in the heat, and Bane knows there's no confining him inside."

They observed the boy tossing various floatable toys into the pool. "Watch, Aunt Nyssa!" he cried before taking his loaded squirt gun and targeting the toys.

"Your accuracy rivals Barsad," Talia called.

This procured a proud grin from him.

Nyssa watched Henri while she finished with the lotion, then she reclined on the lounger, no longer smiling. "Speaking of Barsad, I assume Bane informed you as to the reason why I'm here."

"He did." Talia purposely withheld her opinion.

"I also assume you share Bane's position on the subject."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

Talia laughed, small and dry. "Well, we both know how Barsad feels about you, so there is that. However, I think he respects the League enough to uphold the tradition of succession based on the Council's decision."

"I think his hatred of me is greater than his respect for the League."

"Hatred is a strong word. I think you misjudge him."

"Misjudge the man who is currently AWOL? It's a blatant flout against me. I bet he never would've done it if you were the Demon's Head."

"He wouldn't have needed to; I would have granted his request."

"Maybe I would've too, but he never gave me the chance."

Talia smiled indulgently and sipped her iced tea. "You wouldn't have. Barsad irritates you. You would have relished telling him no."

"Are you saying Barsad was nothing but obedient when you were in command?"

"Of course not. We had our arguments. I think you know he's more loyal to Bane than to me. Bane and I butted heads many times over Barsad, but I never saw any reason to question his loyalty to the League like you are."

"This situation is totally different, Talia, and you know it. I'm new to command; this is a crucial moment."

"So you think I was never new? I took over after the sudden death of my father."

"Our father."

Talia suppressed a scowl. "He had been in command for years, and he was loved and respected. Suddenly they lost him and were saddled with an inexperienced young woman. A woman had never before been in such a position. If you think they all immediately fell into line, you are mistaken."

Nyssa had poured a drink and now sipped the tea, as if allowing herself time to formulate an attack. Henri still shot at the toys, but he had fallen silent, and his gaze often flicked toward them.

"Well, I'll deal with Barsad when he gets back," Nyssa said at last.

"And what will you do to him?"

"That will depend on what he says about the other matter, the reason I came here. But I'm not ruling out excommunication."

Talia suppressed a laugh. "Don't cut off your nose to spite your face, Nyssa. You can make your point with Barsad without costing the League an invaluable asset."

"Not if he's guilty of subversion. He will only continue to sow discord. Even you have to understand the dangers of that for the League."

"I can see you are as stubborn as your mother, so I'll let it go for now."

Nyssa snorted. "Don't you mean our father? I may not have known him personally, but I've learned a lot about him since I first started training. I made a point of it, and I continue to do so. I know about your relationship with him, about the conflicts you two had because of Bane. Neither one of you was willing to give an inch."

"I have regrets when it comes to my relationship with my father, but none of those regrets have to do with Bane. Papa treated him abominably."

"He viewed Bane as a threat, of course. Two alpha males. There can only be one, personally and professionally."

"It was more than that. Bane's very presence made Papa think of how he failed my mother. He wasn't there for her in prison; Bane was. That wasn't Bane's fault, yet Papa punished him for it."

Nyssa kept her gaze on Henri. "Tell me, sister…is it true you seduced Bane the night before he left the League?"

Talia again hid her outrage. "Anything personal between me and Bane is no one else's business."

"I'm just curious if you did it to spite our father. I wouldn't necessarily blame you, considering how you felt about the excommunication. Being so young, you had little else as a weapon to get back at him."

"My love for Bane isn't a weapon; it's genuine. Perhaps you've never experienced such love."

Her barb failed to penetrate. Nyssa continued, "I can certainly see why you love him. He's an extraordinary man, both intellectually and physically. But he's so much older than you. That doesn't bother you? He'll be an old man long before you. And he'll die before you, then it'll just be you there for your kids."

"Bane's age has never concerned me. Love transcends such things. Obviously you do not realize that."

Nyssa shrugged away the insult, obviously more concerned with wielding her own. "Barsad is younger than Bane, I'm guessing." She swirled the ice in her glass. "And he's attractive," she shrugged, "enough. Have you ever had sex with him?"

Talia hesitated long enough to fight back fresh indignation. "Don't be ridiculous. We are with the partners we love."

"C'mon, sis." Nyssa grinned. "As Miranda Tate, you had plenty of sexual partners. It's no secret to Bane. So it's not so hard to believe you could've slept with Barsad before he met Sanjana."

Talia stared long enough at her to make most people wither, but Nyssa remained unmoved, almost triumphant. It was time to steer this ship in another direction before she lost her temper in front of her son. "I think you ask all these things because you're envious."

"Not envious; just curious. Haven't you ever had girlfriends you gossiped with about men?"

"No."

"Not even as Miranda Tate?"

"I played my role, but obviously any such talk had nothing to do with Bane or Barsad."

"It can be fun, just between us girls. Surely you've wondered about Barsad."

Now and then, before Sanjana, Talia's thoughts wandered into such waters when it came to Barsad—or any attractive man, for that matter. But she never felt as if those carnal musings betrayed Bane since she had not acted on those impulses outside her work as Miranda Tate. After all, Bane no doubt had similar desires when around other women, though such encounters were rare. Her mind caught on a new thought—had Bane ever had sexual thoughts about Nyssa? And what if he had? Would she feel injured by such wanderings, even though she knew Bane would never stray? What if a dalliance was required of him in the line of duty, as it had been for her? The mask was gone now, revealing his natural beauty even through the scars. Talia inwardly shook herself free of these ridiculous thoughts.

"Even if your preposterous scenario played out, Barsad would never jeopardize his relationship with Bane…or his life."

"You're saying Bane would kill him over you? My, my, Talia," she chuckled, "you do think highly of yourself."

"Shows how little you understand Bane's love for me."

Nyssa chuckled again but could say nothing in response because Henri had padded over to them, water leaving a trail in his wake, the empty squirt gun in his hands.

"I'm hungry, Mama. May I have a peach?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

With a glance at Nyssa, he retrieved a peach from the basket of fruit on the nearby table.

"Henri," Nyssa said. "Your father tells me you are becoming quite skilled with the katana."

Suddenly shy, Henri murmured, "Uh-huh," and bit into the juicy peach, his cheeks reddening.

"I'd be honored to see you wield it."

Talia told herself she should appreciate Nyssa's interest in Henri, but as usual it annoyed her instead.

"Now?" he eagerly asked with a glance Talia's way.

"Whenever you'd like."

"But not right now, darling," Talia said, though she had no good reason for the deferment. "You're too wet. Why don't you show her this evening? Then everyone can watch you."

With Henri, the bigger the audience the better, so he agreed.

Shifting over on her lounge, Nyssa invited him to sit beside her. Hesitant, he again glanced toward Talia.

"You aren't afraid of me, are you?"

Nyssa knew Henri well enough to know such a question would be perceived as a challenge, and, like his father, he could never turn down a challenge. Nyssa smiled when he sat on the edge of the lounger, ignoring the transference of pool water to her. Peach juice dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"Uncle John said he's going to take me fishing soon."

"Doesn't your father fish?"

"No. He says it's silly."

Talia smiled to herself, remembering a harsher response than silly from Bane whenever Barsad attempted to convince him to accompany him on his occasional fly-fishing outings. Sometimes Sanjana went with him, but she had no interest in fishing either. Instead she would pack a picnic lunch and sit on the riverbank with James while Barsad fished. Bane did, however, enjoy eating what Barsad caught.

"Well," Nyssa said, "I'm sure you'll catch a big fish, Henri, bigger than Barsad's."

Henri grinned. "You can come fishing with us."

"I'm afraid I won't have time for that. I'll be leaving once Barsad returns."

"Oh," the boy said with disappointment.

"The next time I visit, we can go fishing. Just you and me."

"You know how to fish?" Henri's eyes widened.

"Of course. When I'm in the field, working, sometimes I have to forage for my food."

Talia wanted to call Henri over to her, to get him away from Nyssa, but she did not want to seem jealous. Besides, she reminded herself, Bane would continue to harass her about making the effort to accept Nyssa if she did not at least attempt to do so. She could tell him of her indulgence today, and perhaps that would placate him for a while.

"Henri," Talia said. "Finish your peach, then rinse off before the chlorine dries your skin."

"But I'm not done swimming. And I want Aunt Nyssa to swim with me. We can dive for coins."

Toy coins, they were, weighted for Henri to retrieve.

"I bet I can hold my breath longer than you," Henri challenged Nyssa.

"Let's find out."

With that, Nyssa smoothly left her lounge and raced to jump in the pool. Henri laughed, let his peach pit fall to the cement, then cannon balled next to Nyssa.

Talia forced down the feelings trying to strangle her as she watched the two. She closed her eyes and lay back, as if detached from the pair in the pool. As Bane had also said, it would be to Henri's benefit if Nyssa grew fond of the boy. Then she would not view him as a threat to her position as he grew older. After all, Henri's blood was purer than Nyssa's, considering that his maternal grandmother was the true choice of Rā's al Ghūl as lover and legal spouse, while Nyssa's mother had been a mere tryst. Nyssa could not deny that, and Bane was concerned that she was bitter over this and could use it as fuel to squelch any future claim of her nephew. Things could become ugly.

So, Talia thought with a cleansing sigh, she must not only allow Nyssa time with Henri but must cultivate it. That did not, however, mean she had to like the situation. But she was skilled at playing roles, and this was one she must perfect, especially with Nyssa's displeasure over Barsad. They did not need a battle on two fronts.


	9. Chapter 9

**IN THE CROSSHAIRS**

 **Chapter 9**

Bane stood looking out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the music room. The elegant drapery partially concealed him from anyone outside. He observed Talia and Nyssa talking beside the pool and noted how Henri watched them with interest. Who knew if the women's conversation was particularly civil, but at least they were not trading blows. Normally Talia avoided being alone with Nyssa—it was easier to dismiss her sister when Bane was there to maintain conversation. But today, this moment, there was no escape. Satisfied, Bane chuckled and headed to his desk in the alcove at the near end of the room.

Just as he sank into the leather desk chair, his cell phone rang. The number displayed Barsad's burner.

"Hello, brother."

"We've been betrayed," came Barsad's sharp words, instantly alarming Bane. "Damn it, they were targeting me, but they got Sanjana. She…she…" He tried to say more, but his voice broke.

Bane's blood chilled, his tone deepened. "Slow down, brother. What do you mean? What has happened to Sanjana?"

"She's…she's dead. A sniper. God damn it! It should've been me." He gasped for air. "It should've been me. It was supposed to be me!" Something in the background shattered; glass or furniture, perhaps.

Bane forced back his own sorrow, focused. "Where are you?"

"Where I last called you." Their usual cautious words while on the phone, meaning he was still in Jaipur. "We've been trying to track down the shooter, but this place is a fucking labyrinth."

"Was anyone else hurt?" Bane's heartbeat seemed to miss a beat when he thought of motherless James.

"No. I bent down to pick Jimmy up. If I hadn't done that…damn it, she'd still be alive. I was in the crosshairs. The bullet was meant for me. Someone knows I'm alive. Someone betrayed us. And I wouldn't put it past our new commander, especially since she thinks I'm trying to get rid of her."

"Easy, brother. Your blood is up, and your heart is broken. Now is not the time for wild accusations. You must be extracted immediately. That is our first step."

"I'm not going anywhere till I find that bastard."

"Listen to me, brother," Bane said with iron resolve. "You will obey my orders and return here. You may leave your detail behind to continue the investigation, but you are to return at once. You cannot assume there is only one shooter."

"It's not that simple. Sanjana's family is in danger. Whoever's behind this attempt obviously knows I'm connected to them. That must be how they found me. They need protection; they could be taken and used against me."

Bane's mind raced through dozens of questions and potential answers regarding who was responsible for this attack. "You will obey my orders, brother. Bring Sanjana's family with you."

"With me? They won't leave here."

"You must convince them. If you cannot, then they must be eliminated so they cannot become pawns."

"Jesus… There's gotta be another way. My detail could stay here to protect them."

"Our sister will never authorize such an allocation of resources. No, their only choice is to come here. Do whatever you must to achieve it. Do you understand?"

Hesitation at Barsad's end of the line.

"We must entertain the possibility that the betrayal may have originated from within Sanjana's family," Bane said. "Unlikely but possible."

"I don't think so."

"All the same, you will bring them here, and they will be questioned. I will interrogate the staff here as well. Again, do you understand your orders? I demand obedience without hesitation, otherwise I will have the men of your detail forcibly compel you to comply."

Barsad cursed a blue streak. "Her family wants to give Sanjana a traditional funeral."

"That is not possible."

"Well, I'm not going to leave her behind."

"Of course not, brother. I will arrange for your immediate extraction and send you the coordinates shortly. If necessary, I will come myself."

"Don't be a damned fool. I can manage…somehow. Jesus…"

Bane's tone softened. "Bear up, brother. You must maintain vigilance and strength for your son's sake, if not your own." He paused. "Would you like me to tell the others of your loss, or do you prefer the news to keep until you return and deliver it yourself?"

"You can…you can tell them…if you don't mind." He heaved a sigh, as if he had finally sat down after hours on his feet. Bane could sense his fatigue.

"I reiterate my orders to bring Sanjana's family. If they will not come willingly and you don't feel yourself able to order their deaths, then have your detail remove them by force. I will deal with them when they arrive. You are too emotionally involved."

"Using force to get them to leave is probably what it'll come down to," Barsad said in a weary voice. "But I don't wanna traumatize them any further. There's gotta be another way."

"Short of execution, no. I am sorry to sound heartless at such a moment, brother, but you understand my motives."

"Yeah, yeah. Christ…" He faltered. "I just…I just can't believe she's gone. This is my fault."

"Don't speak foolishness, brother. Now tell me, how is James?"

"He won't stop crying and asking for her." His words caught again. "How am I gonna make him understand?"

"You won't be alone in this, brother. You will have everyone's support here. Another reason for you both to return as soon as possible."

"I…I guess."

"Be strong, my friend. You will hear from me shortly."

After he had disconnected the call, Bane made two other calls, setting into motion an extraction team. Then he sat in silence for a long moment, staring the length of the music room, to the silent piano. He remembered Barsad banging out a haphazard tune upon those keys one night last winter, taking over from Talia, having drunk too much wine at supper. The song had been something half-remembered from his childhood in the mountains and hollers of West Virginia, something his mother used to play. The tune had been both uplifting and sad, an intriguing quality to Bane. Henri and James had enjoyed dancing to it, the latter tottering and falling more than staying upright. Such a happy child. Sanjana had laughed at his innate joy whenever he heard music, his tiny hands clapping, his feet moving. Now, Bane shook his head in dismay. James was motherless, as he had been too early in life also. Well, he would see to it that the boy had the female nurturing here that he had lacked after his own mother's untimely death in prison. And with Sanjana's mother coming with James, all the better.

He tried to accept the fact that Sanjana was gone, that he had seen her for the final time when they had said good-bye just the other day. Of course, he had loved her, but even more, he had loved what she did for Barsad. He had watched his friend all those earlier years living with but two loves—his guns and the League. There had been sexual dalliances with the occasional stranger, certainly, before Sanjana, including Selina Kyle during the siege of Gotham and a Georgian fighter when they had been in the Caucasus, a young woman who also died from a sniper's bullet, but nothing permanent; their lifestyle never allowed it. As Bane's own relationship with Talia blossomed into permanence after Gotham, he had been relieved that the same happened for Barsad when he met Sanjana. His friend deserved the same happiness Bane enjoyed, and Bane had no longer had a reason to feel somewhat guilty for his own good fortune.

Barsad. Yet another loss in the lieutenant's life. As a boy in West Virginia, he had accidentally shot and killed his own brother, his only sibling. Barsad's son was named after that sibling. It was a loss that haunted Barsad to this day. Now, to have lost the love of his life… Bane shuddered at the thought of suffering a similar fate should something ever happen to Talia. Quickly he pushed the idea from his mind and focused on his friend instead. What terrible timing to have this happen at the same time as Nyssa's inquisition. Even without Sanjana's death weighing upon him, Barsad would prove volatile under Nyssa's questioning, but now… Bane shook his head. He would need to mediate if he did not want to lose his best friend to excommunication or worse. Perhaps he could convince Nyssa to postpone this nonsense.

Bane drifted back to the window. Henri and Nyssa were together in the pool now. An abundance of splashing and shouting. A melancholy smile touched his lips. How would Sanjana's death affect James's relationship with Henri? He must prepare his son as best as he could for the sorrow that would control both James and Barsad when they arrived. Hopefully Henri would be a bright spot for little James. At least Melisande was too young to understand any of this. He must not let the air of mourning disturb his daughter.

As much as he dreaded it, he needed to inform the others of Sanjana's death. At least he could spare Barsad that cruelty. But who to tell first? Still staring toward the pool and his happy son, he decided to allow Henri more time with his aunt, and the same for Talia.

As Bane reached the foot of the main staircase to ascend to find Maysam, Abrams entered through the front door. He wore cotton trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, his deep tan a sharp contrast against the light colors of his attire. Removing his straw Panama fedora, he offered a small smile.

"Nyssa and Talia haven't killed each other yet, have they?" A mischievous light sparked in Abrams's eyes. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

"Where have you been?" Bane asked casually as they climbed the stairs together.

"Checking the perimeter cameras."

"Everything in order, I trust?"

"Yeah. Everything checks out except for the one we were having the recording issues with. Changed that one out. Shouldn't have any more issues."

Bane nodded in satisfaction. "Thank you for seeing to that."

"Going to check up on the girls?" Abrams grinned. "Or has Nyssa asked for a royal viewing of the children?" He chuckled.

"I must share some news with Maysam and you, as well."

Abrams's teasing expression vanished. "Something wrong?"

"I am afraid so." Reaching the top of the stairs, he paused.

"What is it? Something with Barsad? Has Nyssa decided to—"

"No, this has nothing to do with her." Bane frowned and glanced about to make sure no servants were near before lowering his voice. "It does, however, have to do with Barsad. This news will hit Maysam hard, so I am counting on you to help her through it."

"You're not saying Barsad was—?"

"Not Barsad. It was Sanjana. It appears an assassin's bullet meant for Barsad struck Sanjana instead. She was killed."

Abrams staggered back and stared at him, agape. "Holy shit, Bane…"

"Come, let us get this over with."

It took a moment for Abrams to recover enough to follow Bane, who continued toward the rear of the chateau. This time of day, Maysam would be in her sitting room, which looked out over the swimming pool.

"Did Barsad catch the bastard?"

"I am afraid not. I have recalled him. The search will continue without him."

"I imagine he's pissed about that. Is James okay?"

"Yes."

"Did he see his mother get shot?"

"I am unsure, but I would assume so. I doubt she would have let him out of her sight in such a place."

"Jesus," Abrams breathed. "Poor kid." Then he looked sidelong at Bane, and Bane knew his old friend was thinking of the day Bane's mother had died after a torturous battle with pneumonia. Abrams had lived in a cell next to theirs, one of the few men in the pit prison who had never verbally tormented Bane's mother.

"We must pay special attention to James," Bane quietly said. "His father will be distracted by their loss and bent upon revenge."

"Can't blame him."

"Indeed. But I cannot allow him to lose his head over this, especially with Nyssa."

"Well," Abrams growled, "that bitch better not give Barsad shit at a time like this."

"I will do my best to intervene."

"Does she know?"

"I wanted to tell Maysam first. Talia, Nyssa, and my son are enjoying the pool at the moment, so I would rather allow them a few more minutes together before they hear this terrible news."

When they reached Maysam's sitting room, they found her in a rocking chair, Melisande in her arms. Like most rooms in the chateau, this one shimmered with gilt decorations framing the dark green walls. A large mirror across from the doorway, flanked by windows, reflected the sober faces of the two men as they entered. Another mirror above the right-hand fireplace with its sculpted hearth added to an illusion of spaciousness by reflecting the floor-to-ceiling windows opposite, which looked out toward the pool. This room, for all its elegance, had essentially been turned into a playroom for the children. There was a crib near the facing mirror, a toy box in one corner, and a handful of toys strewn across the rich red and gold designs of the room-length Persian rug.

Maysam's glance told the two men to be quiet lest they disturb the drowsy infant in her arms, and she continued her soft lullaby until she finished the chorus. The sight of his daughter instantly settled Bane and eased the burden of what he had to share. He crept over to them with a loving smile and bent slightly forward to better see Melisande's face amidst the folds of a light blanket. Maysam hummed a bit more of the song, gently rocking. Though Melisande's eyes were closed, she moved slightly, revealing that she was still awake. It pleased him whenever he saw Maysam with his daughter. Having failed to save Maysam's daughter from a brutal death in prison, he felt somewhat eased by being able to at least give Maysam the joy of helping to raise a great-granddaughter, one with features reminiscent of her namesake. He hoped that Maysam lived long enough to see her great-grandchild grow into a beautiful young woman, to experience all that she had been robbed of with her daughter's death.

Bane longed to hold Melisande, to provide her with the strength and security of his arms, the security he had failed to provide her grandmother, and to receive the comfort she provided him more than anything else. But he refrained from touching her lest he spoil her tenuous surrender to sleep. Instead he whispered to Maysam, "I am sorry to interrupt your time together, but I have some troubling news to share from Barsad."

Maysam's full attention jumped to him. "Is he all right?" Her instant concern pushed her voice above a whisper, causing Melisande to stir and open her eyes. Maysam frowned at her lapse and kissed the baby's forehead. "Oh, habibati," she lamented. "I am so sorry. Close your eyes, little one. Forgive Jiddah."

But when the girl saw her father, all sleepiness vanished, and her arms broke free of the blanket and twitched with her desire to go to him.

"Do not fret, Maysam. Let me take her."

After surrendering the baby, Maysam got to her feet, attention on Abrams where he stood just inside the closed door, a man never gifted at hiding his feelings from her.

"What is it, Aaron? Haris, tell me. Is John safe?"

"He's okay," Abrams said.

"And James?"

"He's okay, too."

"Maysam," Bane calmly said, slightly swaying from side to side for his daughter's sake, the infant smiling up at him, spit bubbles in one corner of her mouth. "Why don't you sit back down. I think it best."

Maysam frowned with impatience but obeyed, moving to two upholstered chairs at the far end of the room near the fireplace. Abrams went to stand beside her chair, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"What is it, Haris?"

Bane kissed Melisande, causing her to laugh and squirm. "There was an attempt made on Barsad's life."

Maysam gasped and clutched Abrams's hand.

"As Abrams said, our brother is fine. However, Sanjana had stood next to him, and the bullet struck her instead."

Maysam's other hand gripped the arm of the chair so tightly that her knuckles drained of color. "No," she breathed.

"She did not suffer; she was killed instantly."

"Oh, Haris…poor John… He must be devastated."

Of course, Maysam's first reaction was about Barsad instead of directly about Sanjana's fate, considering their past affair and close relationship ever since, an affair Abrams knew nothing about. But Bane found himself wishing, for Abrams's sake, that she had instead initially spoken of Sanjana.

"And James," Maysam continued, tears in her eyes. "He must be so confused and upset. Oh, Haris, I knew they never should have gone there. Those slums are so dangerous."

"This wasn't a random crime," Abrams said. "Like he said, this was an assassination attempt."

"But the world believes John to be dead," Maysam protested.

"Apparently someone knows otherwise," Abrams grumbled.

"But how?" Maysam's gaze sought Bane. "John is still in danger, then."

"I have sent an extraction team. He and James will soon be back here. However, they will not be coming alone."

"What do you mean? Have they caught the assassin?"

"Not yet. No, I'm referring to Sanjana's family."

"Her family?"

"Yes. It's very possible that Barsad was targeted there because someone knew the connection between him and Sanjana's family. It is too coincidental otherwise. So, if the family remains there, they could be used against Barsad by whomever is responsible for the attempt on his life."

"What if it's someone in Sanjana's family who betrayed John?" Maysam asked.

"Doubtful," Bane said. "They had never seen him before to know what he looked like, to be able to identify him to someone else."

"Sanjana's family…how many people are you talking about? Where will we put them and for how long, Haris? And how can we trust them?"

"There will be Sanjana's mother and a brother and sister. There is a married brother as well, who lives in Delhi. I have sent a team there to observe and question him. I will leave it to their discretion whether to bring them here or eliminate them."

Maysam glanced from Abrams to Bane. "Wouldn't it be best to eliminate all of them? Then John would never have to fear them being used against him."

"C'mon, Maysam," Abrams said in a chiding way. "You can't mean that. Think of Sanjana and James. She wouldn't want that, and James would be deprived of his grandmother."

Maysam hesitated only an instant. "I am his grandmother. He calls me Jiddah, does he not?"

Abrams sighed. "Don't be stubborn."

"I am protecting John and James, as we all should."

"This," Bane said, "is ultimately Barsad's decision."

"But," Maysam said, "he won't be thinking clearly right now. _We_ must decide what is best."

With another frustrated sigh, Abrams gently said, "Damn it, Maysam, you and I need to listen to Bane and Barsad on this."

"Do not worry, Maysam," Bane assured her. "You know I have Barsad's best interests in mind. I will think objectively."

"Maybe this once, Haris, we need you to think emotionally."

Bane chuckled at her determination and gave Melisande back to her. The baby began to fuss, her attention on him. Melisande's displeasure distracted Maysam, as Bane had hoped.

"I must go inform the others," he said. "Abrams, I need you to take Jin away from the pool while I speak to Talia and Nyssa. Talia and I will talk to him afterward."


	10. Chapter 10

**IN THE CROSSHAIRS**

 **Chapter 10**

In Henri's wake, Nyssa swam for the ladder in the deep end of the pool. The boy's strokes were swift and smooth, more like an adult than a mere child. His abilities made her proud, and their short time together in the pool pleased her. Not only did she desire a relationship with her nephew, she had to admit that she also wanted it because she knew Talia had been resistant to it in the past. However, her sister seemed a bit more open today. No doubt Bane's doing.

As if summoned by her thoughts of him, Bane emerged from the chateau and headed their way. She was surprised to see him return so soon, especially with Abrams at his side.

"Papa Baba!" Henri cried when he clambered out of the pool. "Aunt Nyssa said I shoot as good as Uncle John."

Bane smiled. Nyssa often found herself amazed at seeing such expressions on his face. The tarantula-like mask had been an intrinsic part of him; its absence still seemed strange to her.

"No doubt you will soon be better than your Uncle John, my son."

Nyssa noticed how Talia watched Bane closely, also obviously surprised to see him back so soon. She read unease on her sister's face. Sometimes Talia and Bane's unspoken communication and intuitiveness irritated Nyssa. It left her feeling isolated and suspicious, though she berated herself for those insecurities. Perhaps what she felt was simply envy, especially considering her failed marriage.

"Now, Jin," Bane said, "I want you to go inside with Abrams and take a shower. Then perhaps he will play a game with you."

"You come play with us?"

"Perhaps."

"And Mama and Aunt Nyssa?"

"I have something I must discuss with them first. But perhaps afterward. Now, grab your towel and dry off so you don't drip on the rugs. You know how particular Hisham is about such things." Bane nodded to Abrams.

With his towel around him, Henri started for the chateau, chattering to Abrams about his shooting prowess and his time spent with his aunt. Nyssa hoped Talia noticed Henri's enthusiasm. She was also relieved Abrams had left. He and Maysam, unlike Bane, showed no desire to accept her, so to be around him only irritated Nyssa.

Once they were out of hearing range, Talia sat up on her lounge and asked, "What is it, habibi? I can tell you have bad news."

Toweling off, Nyssa keenly watched him. To her, Bane's expression was unreadable, so how did Talia see anything unusual in those dark eyes of his?

Bane settled into a chair between the two. His slight slouch told Nyssa that his always-troublesome back was particularly irritated today. "Unfortunately, my dear," Bane said, "you are correct about bad news."

Of all the things Bane could have told her, Sanjana's death was certainly not one Nyssa had expected to hear. While Talia gave a slight gasp at the news, Nyssa made sure to show no outward reaction, though her attention was latched upon Bane and shock momentarily kept her silent. As Bane expounded, anger grew in Nyssa. This never should have happened. This _wouldn't_ have happened if Barsad had not been an insubordinate ass.

"Do you see why I would've denied his request to go to Jaipur?" Nyssa said, recovering. "Now we have a God-awful fuck up on our hands." She tossed aside her towel. The anger felt good and allowed her to dismiss any sympathy she may have for Barsad and his motherless son. She thrust out her hand toward Bane. "Give me your phone; mine is at the cottage. I'll tell Barsad to get his ass back here now. No more delays. Damn it, Bane."

"This isn't Bane's fault," Talia snapped.

"I have already ordered his extraction," Bane calmly said. "His team will remain behind to continue their search for the shooter unless, of course, you countermand my orders, though I see no reason for that."

Nyssa inclined her chin slightly. "We don't have the resources to waste on Barsad's mistake but, seeing as how his being compromised could have repercussions on more than just himself, I will allow the team to remain there…for now. But if we lose any men over his willful neglect, there'll be hell to pay."

"Considering this horrible news," Talia said to her, eyes still concealed by sunglasses, "I hope you'll wait on accosting our brother about your unfounded claims of sedition."

"Sanjana's death is a tragedy," Nyssa said, "but my first concern is for the League, not one member's personal situation. Considering your past tenure as the Demon's Head, I'd think you'd understand, sister."

Before Talia could counter, Bane weighed in. "I ask that you at least give him some time when he first arrives. He will be tired from his journey. Give him a chance to recover his strength and clarity of mind. That will, perhaps, make him more likely to hear you out."

Nyssa doubted that Barsad would offer such a courtesy one way or the other, but to extend a small olive branch to her sister as much as to Bane, she said, "Very well. But I can't remain here for long, remember. I have other duties, as I've said and as you know."

"Of course," Bane rumbled. He paused, and Nyssa suspected there was something else he wanted or needed to say about Barsad but refrained. "If there is nothing else you wish to discuss, then I beg leave to strategize in private with Talia on the best course of action when it comes to telling our son about Sanjana."

Nyssa frowned at the thought of her nephew's reaction. "If there's any way I can help him, please let me know."

With a glance at Talia, Bane said, "Thank you. It is a kind offer."

Talia said nothing, her jaw tight as she turned to gather her book and shrug into her swimsuit cover-up.

"Why don't you see to your shower first, habibati? I will relieve Abrams and wait for you."

Talia threw one last unhappy glance Nyssa's way before leaving the pool, Bane's arm around her. Nyssa observed their closeness and again felt a twinge of envy. Talia had gotten everything in life—a loving father and a devoted partner, as well as a remarkable son and a life of leisure in the lap of luxury here. What woman wouldn't be jealous? _Well, Talia's good fortune is a direct result of my misfortune_ , Nyssa thought. So who could blame her for the weakness of envy and resentment? Talia would feel the same if the shoe were on the other foot. But Nyssa knew, as the Demon's Head, that she needed to rise above these distracting emotions. She needed to be better than Talia. If she was, then perhaps she could quell the unrest in the ranks of the League. The brethren could forget Talia and fully, respectfully accept their new commander.

As she settled back down on her lounge, she thought of Barsad. Though she didn't want to feel sympathy for him, she found that she did. She cursed herself. She needed to stay pissed at him when it came time to confront him about her suspicions. Letting Sanjana's death cause her to falter in her resolve would be to give Barsad the upper hand. Whether Barsad was guilty or not, Nyssa knew she had a point to make with the stubborn sniper—he needed to swear his allegiance to her. Then, even if the dissenter was someone else, she would feel more confident in squelching this subversion by having Barsad publicly declare his loyalty and spearhead the investigation to further prove his genuineness.

Her thoughts drifted to Sanjana. The young woman had never liked her, Nyssa knew. Maybe that was because of Barsad's dislike, but Nyssa was more inclined to believe Sanjana had her own reasons for being cold. Her son, perhaps. Sanjana had feared losing Barsad and being left to raise James on her own. Maybe she even worried that she would be asked to leave if Barsad died in the line of duty, though Nyssa doubted Bane would ever allow such a demand. Maysam, on the other hand… Sometimes, Nyssa got the feeling Maysam was a bit possessive of Barsad and felt Sanjana unworthy of the sniper's love. The girl, after all, had come from the lowest rung of the caste ladder. Ironic that she should die in the midst of that lower level of society, unable, in the end, to escape its violence and depravity.

But, Nyssa reminded herself, the assassin couldn't have been a slum dweller. No one there would have the resources to own a high-powered weapon and the skills required to use it so effectively. So…who was responsible? And if someone knew Barsad was alive, how had they found out? Did they know Bane lived as well? True, many countries unofficially knew Bane lived. Those nations had secretly agreed to grant him and Talia amnesty for Gotham in exchange for his elimination of the _Al Thi'b_ , the Wolf, a terrorist who had killed many Americans a few years back, before Henri was born. However, Barsad had not been a part of that agreement. Someone, though, knew Barsad was going to be with Sanjana's family, but how? No one outside this compound could have known. Perhaps Sanjana had unwittingly tipped her hand to a family member or friend. But how could such news travel fast enough to result in an assassination attempt so quickly? It made no sense. Hopefully Barsad's men would turn up some clues.

Nyssa sighed and relaxed on the lounge, eyes now shaded by sunglasses. She smiled when she thought of her interaction with Henri, but the expression quickly faded when she considered what Bane and Talia had to tell him. Though confident the boy would be able to handle the news as well as any four-year-old could, she hoped he could also handle James's reaction and the ongoing sadness the toddler would experience. Barsad's son had such a different disposition from Henri, just as different as Barsad was to Bane, yet both emotionally connected so closely, fathers and sons. Regardless of Barsad, Nyssa liked James. Who wouldn't? He was naturally a happy child. But now…?

Nyssa closed her eyes and focused on the hum of the pool pump and the songs of birds. The sun felt wonderful against her skin, the delicious breeze against her damp swimsuit making her comfortable even without shade. With practiced determination, she cleared her mind and banished all her worries, if only for a few minutes.

* * *

Once complete darkness fell over the slum, Barsad allowed the guests still crammed into the hovel to disperse one by one, instructing them to be quick and quiet. As they obeyed with fearful backward glances at him, he remained seated on the floor next to Sanjana's body, which was now washed free of blood and wrapped in a blanket. In his arms, he gently rocked James, who finally dozed restlessly. Only a tiny candle near Barsad's feet offered any light; he would allow nothing else until his men came to extract them.

Ahil sat across from him, as far away as possible, the candle just barely showing his angry eyes; little else could be seen of him. Kavitha sat to her brother's right, near Sanjana's feet, and Vita sat between her and Barsad, near Sanjana's shoulder. The girl's tears came only intermittently now, while her mother's still flowed, though nearly in silence. Around them, the restless sounds of the slum lessened only slightly from daytime. Tension from what had occurred earlier floated upon the air, rumors flying from hovel to hut. Barsad heard nothing that might indicate the arrival of police to investigate, nor did he expect to. What authorities cared who lived and died in the slums?

Barsad kept replaying Bane's orders, kept trying to devise a better plan, but he knew Bane's plan, as usual, was better than any he could devise. Ahil would be the sticking point. Barsad knew only his pistols would convince the young man to comply, and those were still concealed beneath his shirt. He didn't want to brandish one of them with James in his arms.

"What now?" Kavitha strangled out. "Are you going to leave now that it's dark?"

"Not yet," Barsad said softly. Reluctantly he turned to Vita. "Would you take James for a minute, please?"

Mechanically, Vita obeyed. James's eyes opened in alarm, and he murmured, "Mommy."

Vita gently hushed him as Barsad murmured, "It's okay, little man. Go to sleep. I'm right here."

James's attention went to Sanjana, and he reached out toward her. "Mommy sleeping?"

Vita kissed his cheek. "Close your eyes now, little one. It is time for _you_ to sleep."

"Want Mommy." He fussed in her arms, but fatigue made his protest weak.

"You should leave," Ahil growled at Barsad.

"Soon," Barsad said. "But there's something we all have to discuss first." He glanced at his tactical watch. He had only minutes before departure. Dilip Singh was in his earpiece now, apprising him. "None of you will be safe here now. So it's imperative you leave with me."

"Leave?" Ahil echoed. "We're not going anywhere with you. We never want to see you again. Leave my sister and go."

Kavitha studied Barsad as if she hadn't heard her brother. "Why wouldn't we be safe? Why won't you tell us who is trying to kill you? What have you done?"

"I don't know who took that shot. I told you."

"We don't believe you," Ahil said.

"Believe what you want. But to stay safe, you need to come with me, all of you."

"If you don't know who is trying to kill you," Ahil continued, "then how do you know we're not safe? Why would someone want to hurt us?"

"Obviously someone knew I would be here today, so chances are they know we're connected. They might use you to get to me. I won't let that happen."

"Why does the person want to get to you?" Kavitha tried again. "Why won't you tell us? Who did my sister marry? Did she know about all this, whatever _this_ is?"

"She knew."

Vita finally spoke, voice hoarse. "You said you want us to go with you, but where? For how long?"

"We aren't going anywhere with him, Maji ," Ahil said. "I will protect this family. We don't need his help."

"I am more concerned with my grandson than myself. He is motherless now. He needs me."

Barsad had a feeling Maysam would disagree, but he needed Vita to believe accompanying James was what she should do. "I'll take you to my home. You'll be safe there. It's secluded and guarded."

"In France?" Kavitha asked, almost sounding excited about the prospect. No surprise, Barsad thought, considering the girl's hope for an education.

"Yes; trust me, it's a beautiful place. You'll want for nothing."

"No," Ahil said. "We are not going."

Fearful, James whimpered, his attention on the agitated young man whose voice had grown loud in insistence.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," Barsad said. "My men are here."

"What do mean?" Ahil blustered, getting to his feet. "You can't tell us what to do."

Singh came through the open doorway like a wraith, causing the women to gasp. He wore night vision goggles and carried his assault rifle close to his black clothing.

"There's no time to argue, Ahil," Barsad said. "We all have to move…now."

Vita clung to James. "But we can't leave Sanjana."

"We aren't," Barsad said. "I'll carry her, if you can carry James. C'mon now. We need to hurry."

Ahil grabbed Kavitha's arm as she got to her feet. "We aren't going anywhere."

"Let go." Kavitha twisted her wrist to try to break his hold.

"I am the head of this family. You _will_ obey me, sister."

Barsad helped Vita to her feet. The woman glanced anxiously between her children and Singh. Barsad drew his pistol and aimed it at Ahil.

"No," Vita gasped, reaching for Barsad, but he stepped away from her.

Ahil, shocked into momentary silence, let his hand fall away from Kavitha, who hurried to her mother's side as if to protect her from the gunmen.

"Please," Vita said to Barsad, "don't hurt him."

"I don't plan to unless he doesn't come with us."

James began to cry. "Daddy, wanna go home."

"What'll it be, Ahil?" Barsad said coldly.

"Ahil," Vita pleaded, "do as he says."

The young man glowered at Barsad but fear also shown in his eyes now.

"Ahil," Barsad growled. "Don't make me do this. You don't want your mother to lose a son and a daughter on the same day, do you? Think of your family. You can't help them if you're dead."

"Ahil, please," Vita begged.

"Sir," Singh said, "we can't delay any longer. They're waiting…"

Barsad's finger on the trigger felt sticky from the stifling heat in the hovel. Sweat coursed down his face. _C'mon, kid. I don't wanna do this._

James whimpered, "Daddy, wanna go home."

Ahil wavered a moment longer, his attention momentarily on James and Vita.

"Don't be a fool, Ahil," Kavitha said.

"Sir," Singh tried again, bringing his rifle up as if planning to do what Barsad seemed unwilling to do.

"No!" Vita sobbed.

Finally the young man grumbled, "Fine. We'll go. But we're coming back."

Barsad let him believe what he wanted. Inwardly he sighed as he holstered his pistol then said, "Follow Singh. Everyone stay close." Singh handed him a pair of night vision goggles. "I'll carry Sanjana."

"Wanna go home, Daddy," James said.

"We're going, little man. Be brave now, and let your grandmother carry you. You need to be very quiet, okay? I'll be right behind you." He nodded to Singh. "Let's go."


	11. Chapter 11

**IN THE CROSSHAIRS**

 **Chapter 11**

That evening Bane strode alone toward Diya Panjabi's cottage behind the chateau. He carried no flashlight, his eyes keen even in such low light. Although his years in darkness in the pit prison were more than two decades ago, he had retained his acute vision. Barsad had once called him an owl, saying: "One of those huge, old horned owls, like we had back in West Virginia. Big enough to carry away a 'coon." Age, however, would soon erode his sight. Just lately he had noticed a slight blurring when he read small type. Thankfully Henri's storybooks were large print. He did not want his son to think he was as old as his great-grandmother or Abrams, both of whom wore reading glasses.

He reflected on the earlier conversations he had had with his son about Sanjana. When he and Talia first spoke to him before supper, the boy had been confused and asked many questions. He had not cried initially, but later, when his parents put him to bed, he asked more questions, obviously having pondered it all since their first discussion. The tears came then when the reality of never seeing Sanjana again seemed to be better understood. Nothing effusive, but enough to cause his parents to remain with him until he finally fell asleep. Bane hoped stressing the need to be especially kind to James would take root in his son. They had also cautioned him not to ask Barsad questions, that if he had any, he was to come to his parents instead.

The inviting glow of light from the cottage beckoned him there in a grove of platanes. For Diya's sake, he was glad Barsad's delay caused Nyssa to stay an extra night; he knew Diya was lonely and missing her daughter. Hopefully Diya would be willing to assist Sanjana's family. He was counting on it.

Barsad had contacted him once airborne and told him of his passengers. Vita was terrified of flying, never having done so before, of course, so Barsad had given her a mild sedative. Kavitha, however, was so excited that Barsad figured the girl would still be awake when they reached France. Ahil slept little, sitting as far from Barsad as possible and glowering at him. Oddly enough, Bane remembered his mentor, Temujin, saying how joining the League had given him purpose in life after his wife's murder. Perhaps Ahil could also find purpose there.

The cottage's front curtains were still open, and as he approached, Bane could see Diya and Nyssa in the living room, the latter on a sofa, Diya in her favorite recliner. A lamp provided a welcoming beacon.

Nyssa answered Bane's knock. "Is he back?" she asked, looking surprised to see him.

"No, it is far too soon, but he is airborne. I came to discuss another matter with you, one that involves your mother as well."

Her arched eyebrows lifted with curiosity. "Come in."

In the living room, Diya greeted him, as usual, with more decorum than warmth and a certain amount of displeasure, remaining in her chair.

"I hope," Diya said in Hindi, "you are not coming to take my daughter away, sahib. I was so pleased to learn she is able to stay this extra night."

Though Diya had learned some English over the years, she refused to speak it except sparingly, as if doing so would mean she had accepted her life here.

"Rest assured," Bane said, hiding his amusement at her continued stubbornness, "you may enjoy your daughter's company for another night…or for as long as she wants to remain."

She started to get out of her chair, but Bane lifted a restraining hand. "Please stay. The matter I've come to discuss with your daughter is one I want you to hear as well."

Diya exchanged a glance with Nyssa. "Can I get you something to drink, sahib?"

"Thank you, no."

As they all sat—Bane on the loveseat across from Nyssa on the couch—Nyssa asked, "How did Henri react to the news about Sanjana?"

Diya shook her head with genuine sadness and murmured, "Such a horrible thing." Sanjana, having lived on the lower rung of the caste system like Diya, had been the only inhabitant of the chateau to whom Diya had shown true acceptance. And Sanjana had worked harder than any to encourage the older woman to embrace life here. Bane had appreciated Sanjana's efforts. Her delicate touch would be sorely missed.

"Henri is a bit confused," Bane said, "and sad, but I think he will be distracted from missing Sanjana by focusing on making James feel better. We have tasked him with this."

"Tasked him?" Diya echoed. "You make it sound like that child is one of your soldiers, sahib."

"Maji," Nyssa said in a low, gently rebuking tone.

Diya frowned and said, "My apologies, sahib."

Bane nodded acceptance. "My son is already showing a goal-oriented personality. He thrives on being given a set task. It is almost like a game to him. He eagerly seeks the approval of his elders."

"I am sure you know best, sahib."

As if to save her mother from offering any further comments that could be misconstrued as insulting, Nyssa asked, "What did you want to discuss, Bane?"

"It is the matter of Sanjana's family. Leaving them unprotected in Jaipur was not an option, for their own safety but, more importantly, for Barsad's safety."

"I hope Barsad realized that and eliminated them," Nyssa said, drawing a disapproving frown from her mother.

"That was indeed an option, but I left the decision up to him."

"Option? It should've been an order."

"Considering what Barsad has suffered, I felt it important to leave the matter up to him. I trust his judgment."

"So," Nyssa grumbled, "I'm assuming Barsad didn't eliminate them, otherwise there'd be nothing for us to discussed."

"Your assumption is correct. He is bringing them here."

"Damn it, Bane."

"If they pose a problem, I will kill them myself."

Nyssa's lips tightened. "You've become too soft, Bane, because of your family. You've become domesticated. This is why the League has rules against marriage. Maybe we need to be less lenient about all relationships."

Anger stiffened Bane's spine the instant she had used the word soft. He, above all in the League, had worked hard to show Nyssa respect, especially in front of others, to honor the succession, but this accusation pushed him beyond such efforts.

"I assure you, sister," he growled, "there is nothing soft about me. I do my duty, and I challenge you to show me proof otherwise. As I said, if Sanjana's family proves troublesome, I will kill them. Barsad is our brother, and for his years of untiring service, I feel he deserves our indulgence in this matter, considering the blow he has suffered. I understand you have your doubts about his loyalty; I, however, have no such doubts. Believe me when I say this is a matter that should not concern you. I have it under control."

Concern furrowed Diya's brow, hands moving restlessly in her lap as she watched her daughter. Bane knew Diya feared him still, especially his physical power and what he could do to her daughter, no matter how skilled Nyssa may be in hand-to-hand combat.

"Furthermore," he continued, "there was no opportunity for Barsad to interrogate them to see if there is a connection between one of them and the assassin, though it seems unlikely. I will oversee those interrogations here myself."

"Very well," Nyssa curtly said. "But I have your word that you will do what's necessary to protect us?" More of a statement than a question.

"Of course." He could tell his words had left an impression on her, though her pride would never let her admit this aloud. But she also knew he had been in her corner since she had first come to the League, so he figured that paid dividends now for him. "This could benefit the League," he continued. "Sanjana's brother is a bit of a firebrand, according to Barsad, so we might consider sending him to 'Eth Al'theban for training."

"A willing candidate is better," Nyssa said.

"Perhaps in time he shall become willing," he said. "And Barsad had promising things to say about Sanjana's sister. She longs for an education. We can provide her with that here and see where her aptitude lies, then use her for the League's purpose. Then there is Sanjana's mother. She will be important to have here for James's sake. Barsad said they have already formed a connection."

"Why did you want my mother involved in this?"

"I think you already know why, sister. Your mother will be the only relatable person here for Sanjana's family. I would like to solicit her help in making them feel comfortable."

"In my house, sahib?" Diya asked, unable to conceal her reluctance.

"I thought perhaps you might like the company."

"Well, I…I don't know," Diya said with an anxious glance at her daughter. "Perhaps…"

"I thought at least Vita, Sanjana's mother. The siblings can stay in the chateau if you prefer not to be crowded or overwhelmed."

Diya continued to wring her hands and look to her daughter. "What do you think, Nyssa?"

"I think we'll leave it up to you, Maji. Let's talk about it tonight."

"Please consider the benefits this opportunity might provide," Bane said. "You must be lonely here when your daughter is away."

"I…well, yes, sometimes. But…"

Bane smiled reassuringly then stood. "I will leave you two alone now to enjoy the rest of the evening, unless Nyssa has anything further to discuss."

"We'll talk in the morning. By then, Barsad will be back."

"I hope you are still willing to give him some time to rest before you discuss the matter that brought you here."

"I'll wait until after lunch. After that, I need to get back to my regular duties. I've already been here too long. But before I go, you and I will discuss where we take the investigation into this assassination attempt."

"I will have a proposal by morning."

* * *

Maysam and the rest of the household had received word of Barsad's flight landing at the private airfield shortly after they had finished breakfast. It would take another half an hour for him to arrive by car. Maysam used the half hour to make sure Barsad's suite was in order, that Hisham had done everything she had asked.

"When does Hisham miss a thing?" Aaron had asked her before she went to the suite.

True, Hisham followed orders well, and the servant had known Barsad since the sniper had first worked for Maysam's husband, so he always anticipated Barsad's needs flawlessly, but Maysam made her inspection that morning all the same. She found everything ready. The curtains had been drawn in anticipation of Barsad needing rest upon his arrival. Hisham would be in shortly to leave something light for Barsad and James to eat.

Moving through the rooms, she frowned at all the photos that included Sanjana. Would it be better for John if she removed them? Would their absence cause more pain than their reminding presence? She remembered how looking at pictures of her daughter after Melisande had been banished caused pain yet also provided comfort. Difficult to say if it would be the same for John. Men were completely different creatures.

When she reached the nursery, even the cheerful, whimsical décor and plush stuffed animals failed to ease her sorrow. Pain welled up, and she felt suddenly lightheaded. With a small moan of grief, she sank into the nearby rocking chair, a hand to her forehead.

"Oh, John," she murmured. She allowed a few tears, here where no one else could see. Tears, she realized, more for her old lover than for Sanjana. She was not being thoughtless, she told herself. After all, Sanjana no longer felt pain or sadness, but Barsad would carry this agony the rest of his days, as she did for Melisande.

What could she do to console him? She frowned at the hopeless prospect. How could one fill a bottomless pit? She thought back to the early days of their relationship, before the affair. He had been so kind to her after finding out about her daughter's cruel exile. More than once, he had found her crying over Melisande, often after she had just exchanged sharp words with her husband about their child. At first, Barsad would simply apologize for his intrusion and retreat, but as they grew more comfortable with one another, he would frequently stay with her for a few minutes, whatever his duties allowed. He would ask her questions, nothing about the reason for Melisande's absence, just general questions about her at first. Maysam found him so easy to talk to, especially after he told her of accidentally killing his brother back in West Virginia. The commonality of guilt and grief had solidified their friendship, and their discussions grew more personal, though they had to be careful not to spend too much time alone together. Maysam's brother and members of Siddig's family were there to remind her of propriety.

Once their friendship blossomed into something more, they took risks to be together, risks that could have led to Barsad's death and perhaps Maysam's as well if Siddig ever discovered the liaison. It was the inherent danger that finally ended their torrid physical relationship, a mutual though reluctant agreement arrived at for the sake of the other, not for fear for oneself.

Memories of those passionate days still made Maysam smile, though she felt a little guilty, considering Aaron. The two men were very different in many ways, but she enjoyed both the differences and the similarities, and counted herself fortunate to have had not one but two such interesting lovers. Siddig had been more concerned with getting sons from her than in pleasing his lover in bed. Maysam, though she would have loved any child of her own, believed that Allah had withheld such a blessing not to punish her for her adultery but to punish Siddig for what he had done to their daughter. After Melisande had been condemned to the pit prison, Maysam had done whatever she could to deny her husband the pleasures of her body. Besides, it was little consequence to him by then; he had more than one mistress.

She had to admit that she had been envious of Sanjana when it came to her relationship with John. Foolishness, of course. Even if not for Sanjana and Aaron, there was no way she and John would have rekindled their long-ago passion for one another. The age gulf that had been easier to ignore so many years ago could not be dismissed now that she was old enough to be a great-grandmother twice over. However, she sometimes wondered what, if anything, John thought of her as the woman whom he had once desired enough to risk his life.

Maysam wiped her eyes and stared at a nearby picture of Sanjana and James. Thankfully John had a son. She knew the couple had wanted more children, but Sanjana had not conceived, something that distressed the young woman. Her lover had told her not to worry; time would see that James had a sibling.

Maysam loved James as if he were her grandson. He was everything she had wished for from a son or grandson. The thought of Sanjana's mother laying claim to him rankled her, though she knew she should sympathize with the woman's plight as well as respect her blood claim to the boy. But she, not Sanjana's mother, had been there those frightening first days when James—born prematurely—lay in an incubator. And she had been with him every day since.

"Maysam?" Aaron called distantly to her.

She jumped up as if caught doing something wrong. "I'm in the nursery." She hurried from the room.

When Abrams, in the living room, saw her approaching from the hallway, he said, "The car's coming up the drive now."

"Thank you. Let's go down."

He touched her shoulder as she came up to him. "You okay? You look kinda pale."

"I'm just worried."

"Things'll be okay. It's just gonna take time. Barsad is a tough bastard and James has you to help him." He kissed her and forced a smile. "What could be better?"

"Thank you, my love."

Maysam hated herself for thinking passionately about John when she had Aaron. She could not bear hurting him, and just thinking the things she did seemed a betrayal, one he might sense. What an ungrateful thing she was. She did not deserve him.

Together they headed downstairs where Bane and Talia waited. They had decided to have a servant entertain Henri in his bedroom instead of allowing the boy to be here. After James had some quiet time with his father in the privacy of their suite, Henri would be allowed to see them. Of course, Henri had been displeased with his parents' decision.

The two couples stepped outside to stand in the shade of the portico as the Land Rover came to a halt.

The minute Barsad opened his door, Maysam heard James calling out, "Jiddah!" She squeezed Aaron's hand then let go and took an eager step forward. But she halted unwittingly when Barsad's gaze touched upon hers before he turned back to assist the passengers. As before he had left for India, his bleached hair took her aback, but it was the sorrow on his haggard face that took her breath away and crumbled her heart, bringing tears to her eyes. He took a squirming James from the Indian woman in the second row of seats, all the while the boy calling to her. Once he was set down, James hurried toward her, and Maysam rushed to scoop him up and kiss him.

"Stop, Jiddah, stop," James said. Though he was smiling, his eyes were red rimmed from crying. Maysam's heart broke all over again.

"I have missed you so much, habibi."

"Jiddah make Mommy wake up."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry about your mommy."

"Make her wake up."

Abrams, Bane, and Talia saved her from having to answer by coming over to welcome James back. By then, Sanjana's family had left the vehicle, all staring incredulously at the chateau. Two servants had come from the house to unpack the vehicle.

Barsad stepped forward and spoke in an exhausted voice, using Hindi. "Everyone, I want you to meet Sanjana's family. This is Vita, Kavitha, and Ahil."

The three stood stiffly, attention now shifting to Bane's enormous form. They did not recognize him, Maysam knew. No, their amazement would stem from never having seen such a large man. Fear in Vita's eyes, curiosity in the girl's, and something close to hatred in the boy's. Kavitha's attention drifted back to the chateau, her mouth slightly open in awe.

"You live in a castle," she murmured.

"It is hardly a castle," Bane said, close to a chuckle. "But welcome to our home. I am Haris. This is Talia and her grandmother, Maysam. And this is Aaron, Maysam's…husband."

They all appeared surprised that Bane spoke their native tongue.

"Daddy," James said. "Where's Mommy? Jiddah gonna wake her up."

Barsad said to Bane, "She's being cremated."

Talia stroked his arm once, said in English, "We're so sorry, brother. We loved her, too."

"I know. Thanks."

"Come inside, everyone," Talia said in Hindi. "I'm sure you're tired and hungry. We have a comfortable room prepared for our guests and something to eat."

"Daddy, where's Mommy?"

"We've talked about this, buddy," Barsad said, gesturing to the others to follow Talia. "Let's get you something to eat and a nap."

"Want Mommy," James mumbled, looking hopefully at Maysam, who rarely denied him anything. How she wished she could bring his mother back.

"Listen to your baba," Maysam gently scolded in Arabic, kissing him. "You look so sleepy. I can read you a story before your nap."

Vita hesitated at the door, looking longingly back at James. No doubt she wondered who this woman of Arabic descent was to her grandson, especially because James called Maysam grandmother. Unwittingly Maysam held him even tighter.

Once inside, the guests stared, agape, at the lavish décor, their steps faltering as Talia encouraged them to follow her and Bane. Abrams and Maysam, still carrying James, accompanied Barsad up to his suite. Once there, Aaron halted just inside the door to speak to Barsad while a servant carried Barsad's bags to the bedroom.

"My men," he said, referring to the two who worked specifically for him to safeguard Maysam, "will be stationed outside Sanjana's family's room and the other outside their windows. Bane's assigned one of his…your men to them as well. Do you expect any trouble from them? The boy looks pissed and shifty."

"I think they'll be okay."

Abrams frowned. "We're all here for you, brother. You don't have to do this alone." He nodded toward Maysam. "She's been worried sick about you two."

"Thanks, Aaron."

"If you need anything, just ask. Try to get some sleep." He put a hand on Barsad's slumped shoulder then, with a glance at Maysam, left them, following the servant and closing the door.

"Are you hungry?" Maysam asked James.

"A little."

"John, come to the table with us and eat something."

"I'm not hungry. Sorry."

"Sit with us. At least eat some fruit."

Instead of putting James in his highchair, she held him on her lap. Barsad hesitated then shuffled over to slump in a chair. They focused on getting James to eat. Unenthusiastically, father and son managed to down some fruit, cheese, yogurt, and freshly-made granola. James occasionally asked for his mother, but Maysam distracted him by inquiring about Sanjana's family.

By the time James refused more food, the boy was yawning.

"Come along, little one," Maysam said, wiping his messy mouth and hands with a linen napkin. "Let's read you a story before your nap."

Barsad did not follow her to James's room. He looked too exhausted to leave the table. But by the time she was about done with the story, he stood in the doorway, watching. Maysam carefully carried James, asleep, to his bed. Once the child was snuggled under his light blanket with his favorite stuffed bunny, Maysam tiptoed from the room with Barsad and closed the door.

There in the hallway they faced one another, saying nothing. John looked near collapse. Maysam took his face in her hands, murmured his name, then drew him into her embrace. He clung to her for longer than she expected, as if too weak to do anything else.

"I'm so sorry, John," she said near a whisper.

"It should've been me. This is my fault."

Appalled, she pulled back to study him. "It most certainly is not. Oh, John…" She took his hand and led him away from James's door, back to the living room where they sat close on a sofa.

"The bullet was meant for me," he said, covering his face with his hands, elbows braced on his knees. "We shouldn't have gone there. I put them both in danger." His shoulders started to shake, and he began to quietly cry, muffled by his hands, racked by emotions that she knew he had denied until now, a vulnerability that he would show no one but her.

Maysam slipped her arm around him, drew him close as she said, "But Sanjana wanted to go. She needed to go. You know that. It had been so long since she had seen her family. John, look at me." She gently drew his hands away from his face, kissed them and held them tight. His heavy-lidded eyes met hers as he tried to regain his composure. "Remember how I blamed myself for Melisande's imprisonment? It was you who helped me deal with that guilt. Without you, I don't know how I could have gone on at that point. You were there for me, and I'm going to be here for you, for you and James. You will get through this, but you must not blame yourself. Sanjana knew being with you meant risk; she accepted that. She wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

"But that's just it, Maysam—we both knew the risk of her being tied to me. That's why I never should have fallen in love with her."

"But that wasn't something you could control. You and I both learned that lesson many years ago, didn't we? And, besides, think of all the joy Sanjana brought you and you gave to her. And think of the best thing of all—your son. He carries a part of her with him. And so do you. She will always be with you both. Take comfort in that. I still do when it comes to my daughter. Do you know why?"

Weakly he shook his disheveled head, stared at their hands.

"Because that's what you told me to do all those years ago." She tilted his chin up so their gazes met. Tears trailed through the stubble on his cheeks, and she knew he had been holding them back all this time because of James. "We have both suffered terrible losses, but we must go on for our loved ones still here. I did, and so will you. We must focus on James."

"How will he ever understand this? His mother can't be replaced, and I can't be here for him all the time like Sanjie was."

"No, but I can be. And Talia."

Barsad wiped away the tears, studied her curiously. "And his grandmother," he reminded her in a leading way. Was her possessiveness that obvious?

Maysam tried not to bridle. "But she won't be here forever, will she? They didn't appear pleased to be here."

"I didn't give 'em a choice, so, yeah, things are a little dicey."

"But once time goes by, they can be relocated somewhere else that's safe. That is if one of them isn't responsible for the attempt on your life."

"I don't think they had anything to do with it."

"You don't think they suspect your real identity?"

"I doubt they've seen much television, if any. You know how people live in the slums, Maysam. I've known dogs that have an easier life. And then there's this." He gestured to his hair. "Barsad of Gotham was no blond."

She offered a small, amused smile and allowed herself to comb his hair back into shape with her fingers. "It does change you considerably. I must say I will be glad to see your true hair color again." She sobered. "You and Haris look very different from your days in Gotham, but Talia does not. I don't like these strangers seeing her. I wish Haris had not introduced her as Talia. Forgive me for saying this, John, but perhaps it would be best if they were taken out of the equation."

"I can't do it, Maysam. Call me weak, but I just can't because of Sanjie. I can't."

She rubbed his back. "But Haris could, if he finds it necessary."

"I hope he doesn't. James took a real liking to Vita and Kavitha. He's going to need them."

Maysam frowned. "How can you trust them with James?"

"Once you get to know them, you'll see what I see. Well, at least when it comes to Vita and Kavitha."

"I don't know, John."

He tried to smile. "Don't think I'm taking him away from you. But I hafta ask you to share him."

She grumbled, "What if I don't want to?"

"We hafta let James be with whomever he wants, especially right now while we get through this nightmare. Put yourself in Vita's shoes—you know what it's like losing a daughter. Christ, she was right there when it happened. After you learned about Melisande's death, didn't having at least Talia with you make things somewhat easier to bear?"

Reluctantly she nodded. He smiled more successfully now and kissed her cheek.

"Promise me you'll try to give Vita time with James."

"Someone will be supervising, though, until you and Haris are certain they are no threat?"

"Of course. In fact, I could give that duty to you if I knew you would be fair and openminded."

"I will be whatever James needs me to be."

They looked at one another for a long, warm, intimate moment, one filled with shared grief and deep love.

"Thank you," he said.

"Now, my dear one, why don't you get some rest before that snake Nyssa comes hunting you down? Haris convinced her to give you some time to recuperate before she accosts you. And while you sleep, I'll sit with James in case he wakes up before you."


	12. Chapter 12

**IN THE CROSSHAIRS**

 **Chapter 12**

Barsad sat in the near darkness of his windowless armory, hunched over a table in the center of the room where his disassembled Barrett M82 lay. The heady aroma of solvent, degreaser, and lubricant gave him as much pleasure as one of Sanjana's perfumes, consoling him with their familiarity. Around him, his arsenal of some one hundred firearms offered silent solace from within their locked displays of shatter-proof glass. His fingers, usually so dexterous, fumbled and frustrated him, but he merely cursed them and continued more doggedly in his work. Now and then he paused to take a gulp of brandy and listen for his son should James awake and need him. Maysam was still with him, but Barsad knew she might not be enough to calm the boy if he awoke in distress.

A tiny smile appeared for a brief instant when he thought of Maysam. How grateful he was to have her. True enough, Bane and Talia would be a big help getting him and James through this nightmare, but with Maysam, Barsad felt completely comfortable allowing his vulnerabilities to show. When she was near, he always felt a warmth and connection that was closer to what he had shared with Sanjana than to what he felt with Bane or Talia. It made sense, of course, considering their affair. And when he returned to the field, which he planned to do immediately in order to find Sanjana's murderer, Maysam would provide James with everything he needed, short of his father, to endure the separation. Barsad didn't want to leave his son so soon, but he wouldn't rest until he found the assassin.

His smile returned when he considered Maysam's possessiveness of James. Hopefully no cat fights would break out between her and Vita while he was gone. He would have to talk to Talia about running interference or mediating, if necessary.

A quiet knock came at the door, followed by Hisham's muted voice. "Excuse me, sir. Your commander sent me to fetch you."

Barsad ground his teeth together. He had forgotten about Nyssa and her inquisition.

"May I come in, sir?"

"The door's unlocked."

Hisham's troubled brown face appeared around the door, and he hesitated before entering, glanced around the room, as if looking for someone else. "I am sorry to disturb you. If I may have a moment of your time before you report to your commander…"

"Of course."

The middle-aged Indian stepped farther into the room, his fingers fidgeting, his brow furrowed. It seemed to Barsad that his black hair had several new strands of gray since he had last seen him, but that was impossible, considering he had been gone such a short time.

"I just wanted to express my condolences, sir." Though usually stoic, the servant had tears in his dark, bloodshot eyes.

Hisham had known Sanjana longer than anyone who lived at the chateau. He had felt a level of responsibility for Sanjana's future after her failed betrothal to one of his nephews. The groom's jealous brother raped Sanjana, which had led to her father disowning her. Hisham's brother, shamed by his son's crime, had begged Hisham to help Sanjana find work at the Rajasthan palace, for she had nowhere to go and no one to support her. Since then, Hisham and Sanjana had always shared a warm relationship, even after Sanjana had left servitude behind.

"She was a wonderful young woman," Hisham continued now. "I will miss her."

Barsad got to his feet, moved by the man's sincerity. "Thanks, Hisham."

"If there is anything, anything at all I can do for you or your son, please let me know."

"Thanks. You do plenty for us already, and we appreciate it."

"How is Sanjana's family doing? I understand they are here."

"Yeah. I didn't feel it safe to leave them behind."

"Understandable, sir, and wise."

"Needless to say, it was a snap decision, and they weren't thrilled to come. I know I can count on you to help them make the transition."

"Of course, sir. I will be happy to do whatever I can to make them comfortable. Such a shock for them, I am sure." He wiped at his eyes, unashamed of the display. "I am glad you are safe, sir."

"I wish it had been me, Hisham."

"I know, sir." He paused. "Do you know who is responsible?"

"Not yet, but I'll find him."

"I am confident you will, sir."

"Well, I'd better get going."

"I almost forgot, sir—your commander said to bring two of your rifles. She will meet you on the back patio."

* * *

Barsad found Nyssa sitting on a patio chair, dressed in a pale green blouse with a low neckline and cream-colored chino shorts, legs crossed, one foot bouncing as if to an inner beat. Her hair lay in a long braid draped over one shoulder. A stylish brimmed straw hat with a white band protected her from the early afternoon sun, as did sunglasses dark enough to hide her eyes. She faced away from the chateau and seemed lost in thought as Barsad approached. Only when he halted next to her did she acknowledge his presence by turning her head.

"Why the guns?" he asked in a monotone, the two rifles slung over his shoulders.

Nyssa got to her feet with ease and grace, a seamless movement reminiscent of her half-sister. "I thought you might like to shoot something. And I can use the target practice." Her manner was cool and detached, but Barsad knew she was gauging him closely from behind those sunglasses. She gestured to a golf cart waiting beyond the patio. "Shall we?"

Nyssa reached the cart before Barsad and took the driver's seat. Securing the rifles and ammunition boxes on the rear seat, Barsad then joined her on the padded bench seat. As usual, there was an uncomfortable feeling between them, one Barsad was indifferent to rectifying, especially considering what they were about to discuss. With a smooth touch, Nyssa sent the solar-powered vehicle on its way.

As they headed beyond her mother's cottage, Nyssa finally broke the silence. "I don't have much time. I've been here far longer than I'd planned to be."

Barsad couldn't stop himself from sarcastically saying, "Sorry my wife's murder spoiled your timetable."

"Don't be an ass, brother. We've had our differences over the years, not to mention the one that's brought me here now, but I _am_ sorry for your loss. Truly. And for James. As you know, I'm familiar with the reality of growing up with only one parent. It's a loss nothing can assuage."

Begrudgingly Barsad admitted to himself that Nyssa sounded sincere. However, he could not bring himself to thank her for her sentiments. All he could think of instead was how much Sanjana had mistrusted her. Nyssa's sympathy was surely more for James, for the personal reasons mentioned, than for Sanjana.

They passed through an acreage of a newer vines, bouncing across the summer-hardened, rolling ground. Barsad had no idea what type of grapes grew here; he had little interest in them except for their finished product. The solar panels on the golf cart's roof had plenty of sun to soak up, for hardly a cloud spoiled the beauty of the azure sky. The breeze caused by their quick travel tickled the ample amount of dark hair on his forearms. Very little wind today but enough to factor into shooting.

"I assume," she continued, "Bane told you he'd be interrogating Sanjana's family. That's why he's not with us. He wanted us to speak to you together, and I had originally agreed to it, but since you have already put me far behind schedule with your disobedience in India, I need to finish this now and get on a plane. I don't have time to wait for him to finish the interrogations."

"Questioning them is a waste of time. How could they have possibly known ahead of time who I was?"

"Bane—and I—tend to agree with you, but we'd be remiss if we didn't question them."

"They've been through a lot. I hate to have Bane scaring the shit out of 'em."

"It's best that he questions them when they're in a vulnerable state. You know that."

"From a professional standpoint, sure, but from a personal standpoint, I wish we could just leave them alone. They've lost a husband, a father, a daughter, and a sister, as well as their home and country. That's a fucking lot to process for anyone."

"If they didn't have anything to do with the assassin, then who should we suspect? What are your theories?"

"The only others who knew for certain that I'm alive are Maysam's brother, her brother-in-law and his family at the palace in Rajasthan, as well as his security forces, of course."

Nyssa shook her head in frustration. "Too many."

"Yeah, it was always a gamble, but we didn't have a lot of options; once Talia became pregnant, there was no way she was gonna deprive Maysam of her great-grandchildren." And, at the time, Talia had been reluctant to ask Maysam to leave the palace, for it was the only home she had known since marrying Siddig decades ago. Barsad and the others had stayed as long as they could, until Nyssa had come along and threw their lives into chaos. "I really can't see Maysam's brother-in-law betraying us, though. We had a good relationship with Nashir. And I don't think he'd be stupid enough to cross Bane."

"But you killed his brother, so he has motive."

Barsad stared ahead through the windshield. "No one knows who killed Amir, including his brother."

Nyssa chuckled cynically and shook her head again with a sidelong glance at him. "I really don't know why you keep denying what you did. If you think you're protecting Maysam's feelings, she's a pretty keen old broad; I bet she knows. And, besides, she didn't like Amir either."

Barsad always felt uneasy over how much Nyssa seemed to know about their pasts, especially when he knew neither he nor Talia shared much with her. And he doubted Bane had offered such details. No, Nyssa would have used her own picked men to dig up what they could. Or perhaps she was just more intuitive than he wanted to admit.

"The obvious thing," Barsad said, "is that someone knew I was going to be in that Jaipur slum. That's why I think the death of Sanjana's father wasn't an accident. I think someone targeted him in the hopes that I would show up for the funeral. A way to flush me out, if they had no idea where I lived, which I'm assuming they didn't, otherwise they might have hit us here."

"So, you believe they know about you and Sanjana. It has to be someone from the palace. Bane suspects the same; he's already ahead of you. He gave me his proposal for the investigation this morning. He'll be heading to Rajasthan tomorrow morning."

"We should leave today."

"You aren't going."

"The hell I'm not." He steadied himself on the seat as the speeding cart struck more uneven ground. They were almost to the shooting range.

"Don't be a fool, Barsad. You can't be objective in this."

"If you think I'm sitting this out—"

"You are. That's an order."

"What did Bane say about it?"

"He agrees with me."

"Bullshit."

Nyssa turned the cart off the worn path and into an open field bordered on three sides by trees. Across the field at various distances and elevations stood rows of targets, some the typical bullseye targets, others with the outlines of human targets. On the near side of the field were firing points for both standing and prone firing. Barsad thought of the many times Sanjana had accompanied him here. Though never comfortable with firearms, she had allowed him to teach her how to shoot rifles and handguns, a skill he insisted she learn for her own protection as well as James's.

"We aren't going to debate this," Nyssa said.

Barsad bit back any further protest, knowing he would get nowhere with her. He would talk to Bane after she left. Getting out of the cart, he hefted the M24 SWS and a box of ammunition, leaving his Steyr SSG 69 for Nyssa.

"After all," Nyssa continued, striding beside him with the rifle, "you're under suspicion of sedition. Until I'm convinced of your loyalty, I'm suspending you."

"Sedition." He barked a laugh. "Please. You're just looking for an excuse to sideline me."

"There's also the matter of you going to India without permission."

"Sanjana's father was killed, for God's sake. She hadn't seen her family in years."

"And when you went there, you took unauthorized assets with you."

"If I was here, they'd be with me. So it's no different for them to be with me in India."

They reached the roofed firing point and proceeded to load their weapons.

"The difference is that here they're protecting more than just you. That's their purpose. Their orders don't encompass protection for a personal trip to another country. Damn it, Barsad, you know all this. Why do I even have to say it? If anyone else in the League did what you did, Bane himself would've snapped their neck, but of course he won't do that to you." She waved away Barsad's attempt to speak. "Your blatant disobedience only makes me believe even more that you're behind the dissension in our ranks over my ascendance."

With short, sharp movements, he finished loading the rifle's magazine. "There's dissension; I'll agree with you there. And, yeah, I'm not thrilled with you as the Demon's Head, but I'm not leading a rebellion against you."

"Someone is. If not you, then who? You just said you know there's dissension, so who's spoken to you about it?"

"No one directly," he lied. "Some of our brothers have told me they've heard things from others, but of course they aren't gonna give me names, and I'm not gonna ask, not if I want to keep their respect and keep channels open for the future." He adjusted the gun's scope, sighting for five hundred yards. "You have your guard dogs; make them sniff out the culprits."

"Don't worry; the investigation is underway."

"Then why'd you bother coming here?"

"Because, as third-in-command, you should have the chance to defend yourself directly to me." She raised a skeptical sable eyebrow at him. "And I trust my instincts more than anyone else's, so I wanted a face to face meeting."

"Yeah, then what are your instincts telling you?" he asked sardonically, staring down the scope at the distant paper target with the outline of a man's head and torso.

"They're telling me not to believe everything you've said. Why should I? You've done nothing but defy and argue with me since I took over. Our veterans greatly respect you, so if the unhappy ones need the ear of someone of rank, you'd be their first choice, knowing that you aren't as loyal to me as you should be. They'd never risk their necks by going to Bane."

Barsad normally wore ear protection when at the range, and he wished Nyssa would stop talking so he could use the earplugs, but it was obvious she wouldn't. After donning ballistic glasses, he fired off half a dozen rounds. He inwardly cursed when he saw that only five had struck where intended. Was Nyssa pissing him off enough to be off his game or was in Sanjana? Whatever the cause, he sure as hell didn't want Nyssa to think she was behind his loss of concentration.

"So," he said, "you expect me to be blindly loyal to someone who's accusing me of being behind some sort of coup?"

"The League isn't a democracy, Barsad. And when Talia took over from our father, you didn't give her the grief you've given me."

He didn't bother to ask her how she knew this. "Totally different circumstances when Talia took over."

Nyssa took aim and fired off several shots at a target the same distance as Barsad's. Looking through his scope, he saw that two of the shots were bullseyes, while the rest were clustered just below.

"Talia took over because it was her birthright," she said, "and that's exactly the reason I took over. So, it's not as different as you keep telling yourself."

Barsad swung his sights back to his target, this time firing headshots instead of center mass, and paying proper attention to windage. Better results this time. It felt good to have a rifle back in his hands. He took comfort in it, like being with an old friend after a long absence, a friend who would help him exact vengeance. If only he were shooting at Sanjana's murderer now instead of an inanimate object. Well, the time would come. Even if finding the shooter meant losing his rank or forfeiting his inclusion in the League altogether, he wouldn't hesitate to do what was necessary. What type of father would he be to his son if, one day when James was old enough to understand, he couldn't assure him that he had made the man pay who had stolen his mother from them?

Fortunately, Nyssa concentrated on her shooting for several minutes, allowing him a reprieve. Begrudgingly he admitted she was an excellent markswoman, just as her sister was. Talia, however, like Bane, preferred close combat over the use of long guns.

Barsad paused long enough to reload his magazine—he always hand-loaded his rounds—and adjusted his sights for six hundred yards. Normally when he came here, he thought of nothing else, his entire focus on the targets and his weapons. He loved the feel of them, each one as well-known beneath his hands as Sanjana's body. The reports echoing against the hills, the kick of the butt against his shoulder, the scent of metal, the flight of shell casings like metallic snow, the music they made striking one another beneath him, the satisfaction of hitting the mark time and time again. The serene setting with the rolling green hills, the mountains in the distance, the bordering trees.

Sometimes when Sanjana would accompany him with James, she would have the kitchen staff pack a picnic basket, and after he was through, he would sit on a blanket under the trees with them. James, happy to be free of the earmuffs that they made him wear at the range, would fondle his toy pistol and say, "Bang, Daddy!" when he pointed it. Sanjana always did her best to hide her unease at the sight of James with even a toy pistol. They had even argued a bit when Barsad had bought it for him, one of their rare disagreements. She had accepted the fact that her lover cared for guns almost as much as he cared for her, but she preferred that their son not develop the same attachment until far later in life, if at all.

Sanjana had never been completely comfortable with Barsad's life in the League. When they had first met, she, of course, had no idea what he did for a living. When she first met him while serving Maysam, she had heard talk from the El Fadil family servants about the notorious identities of he and Bane, but she had little knowledge of the world beyond the Jaipur slums prior to working at the palace. The siege of Gotham meant nothing to her; she had never seen a television until the palace. After she had fallen in love with Barsad, she tried to persuade him to tell her the truth. For a time, he resisted, not only for his safety but for the safety of Bane and Talia. Yet as their relationship deepened into a commitment that both wanted to nurture, he knew he had to let her in completely so she could make the final choice of whether she wanted to be a part of such a dangerous life. The reality of him being capable of killing didn't shock her, considering her suspicion of him killing Amir for her sake. The latter act had given him hero status in her young eyes. Barsad figured it was that same youth factor that allowed her to accept his occupation. Perhaps accept wasn't the right word; tolerate might be better because she could never truly accept the danger he faced whenever he left her on a mission. Once James had been born, she had even asked him to consider leaving the League for the sake of their son. He told her that as long as Bane was a member of the League, he would be, also.

After a time, he glanced at his watch. He didn't want to be away from James any longer than necessary today. He finished his clip and waited for Nyssa to do the same.

He studied her profile as she pulled off her last shots. She had many facial features similar to Talia, like her small, sloping nose and dark eyes, but Nyssa's jawline was squared, while Talia's was more delicate and tapered. It gave Nyssa a naturally more determined look; one might say a harsher look. She also had a few freckles that appeared on her cheeks when exposed to the sun for a while. For as long as Barsad had known her, she allowed her brunette hair to remain long. While Talia's hair could sometimes hint at natural curl, Nyssa's was as straight as chocolate cascading from a fountain. She was taller than Talia, about Sanjana's height. Her natural gait reminded him more of a man's movements, whereas Talia's was all smooth seductiveness. A she-wolf compared to Talia's panther. Nyssa embraced a rifle, while Talia merely handled it with the same utility that she had used to manipulate the wealthy men of Gotham.

Once Nyssa emptied her clip, he said, "I need to get back to my son."

"And I need to get back to my duties." Her gaze, however, kept him in place as she removed the ballistics eyewear. "Unless there's something more you can offer me to convince me that my suspicions about you are unfounded, I'm relieving you of your duties until my investigation's complete. Consider it a blessing for your son to have you here instead of in the field. You'll remain here and only here."

Barsad gathered his empty ammunition boxes. "And if I don't?"

"Then I will be forced to demote you at the least, and you'll lose the privilege of living here. And if my investigation finds evidence of sedition, I will recommend to the Counsel excommunication at least. Or a worse fate, depending on what I find."

Barsad stepped closer to her, sweating heavily now even in the shade, his hand tight on the rifle. It irritated him that he couldn't tell if she were bluffing. He wished Bane were here; he would know. "So you're willing to make my son an orphan just because I've wounded your pride?"

"This has nothing to do with my pride and everything to do with unit cohesion. You understand the chain of command and what unrest in the ranks causes. If you split our brothers down the middle, cohesion is lost and the entire organization can fail. If you're as innocent as you claim, then you and James have nothing to worry about. You can blame me all you want, Barsad, but I'm not the one under suspicion, and I'm also not the one who went to India without clearance."

Barsad almost said, "Fuck you," but instead pushed brusquely past her and headed for the golf cart. _She can walk back to the chateau. Fuck this._


	13. Chapter 13

**IN THE CROSSHAIRS**

 **Chapter 13**

Kavitha roamed the spacious room, her fingertips trailing over everything—plush furniture of gold and blue, rich wood end tables, gilt picture frames, draperies that matched the furniture, marble windowsills, windows so clear and sparkling that she had to touch the glass to assure herself they were there. Around and around she went, over and over, mesmerized by it all. Then she did the same in the adjoining bathroom, everything foreign and fascinating, as if she had been transported to another planet. She had occasionally seen pictures of the Taj Mahal in worn-out magazines or newspapers circulating in their neighborhood, and she wondered if the interior could possibly be as luxurious as her sister's home.

She studied herself in the bathroom's large mirror, the lighting making the room as bright as day and revealing every inch of her in a way that made it seem as if she were seeing herself for the first time. She combed her fingers through her long, loose hair, still damp from her first ever shower. Then her hands smoothed the front of her shirt as she stared at the blue and white cotton fabric, clean and smelling of her sister, for the clothing she now wore had come from Sanjana's wardrobe. Not traditional Indian garb, more Western, but Kavitha did not mind at all. Her mother wore traditional clothing, but it was not from Sanjana's wardrobe, for Sanjana was several inches taller than her mother. They were told these had been loaned to her from another Indian woman who lived on the property, one they would be introduced to later today, information that seemed to comfort Kavitha's mother. She requested the white of mourning but was told her benefactor did not own such.

Just as Kavitha turned the faucet on to again marvel at the endless clean hot water falling over her hands, her mother called to her from the next room. Reluctantly she turned the water off and left the bathroom.

"Come sit with me," her mother said.

Kavitha reluctantly abandoned her exploration and sat on the edge of the sofa where her mother reclined in exhaustion. She took her mother's cold hands in hers and rubbed them.

"Why don't you go lie down in the bed, Maji?"

"I won't be able to sleep, not until Ahil comes back. And why is it so cold in here?"

"It's air conditioning. You're just not used to it."

"I don't like it. Do you think there's a way to turn it off?"

"There must be, but I don't know how. I think it feels nice. You're cold because you're worried about Ahil."

"Aren't you? Worried about Ahil, I mean." She seemed almost appalled by Kavitha's fascination with their lodgings.

"Of course. But we can't do anything about it. The door's locked. I'm sure he's okay," she lied. "He will be back soon. You'll see."

"Why would they take him away? And where is John? Has he abandoned us?"

"Maji, please. Try not to worry. Why don't you eat something?" She gestured to a small cart just inside the door where covered dishes contained a variety of Indian food. "It's delicious." Her stomach was near bursting from all that she had consumed.

"How can you eat at a time like this, daughter?"

Kavitha had been hungry her whole life, so even the grief she felt over her sister's death had been unable to curb her interest in the food. Was there more to come? Even now, she wanted to eat more but knew she had to leave it for her mother and brother.

"I'm sorry, Maji. But we should keep our strength up. You really should try to eat something, even if it's something small. Let me fetch you something."

She started to get up, but her mother held onto her, as if afraid her daughter, too, would vanish. "I don't want anything, beti."

"At least drink this water." She offered a glass that had been sitting on the coffee table in front of them. Half-heartedly her mother sipped the water.

"I hope they didn't take Ahil to see that giant of a man we met outside."

"Haris," Kavitha clarified.

"He frightened me."

Kavitha smiled soothingly. "He seemed kind enough. Maji, if they were going to hurt us, why would they give us food and put us in this beautiful room?"

"But where's John? And my grandson? Who was that woman who took him from me? He called her grandmother, but John didn't introduce her as his mother. I'm so confused, Kavitha. How can you be so calm?"

"It won't do us any good to worry. You're going to make yourself sick, Maji. I'm sure we'll see John soon. He's probably resting, like you should be."

The door to their room opened, and the burly black man dressed in military fatigues who had taken Ahil away now held the door for her brother.

"Ahil!" their mother cried, sitting up. "Are you all right?"

Ahil tossed an unnerved glance back at his escort, who remained in the doorway. "I'm fine, Maji." However, he did not look fine to Kavitha. He appeared shaken, and the bluster he had brandished like a weapon before being taken from this room was gone. He hurried over to his mother where she now stood near Kavitha.

"Where did they take you?" their mother asked.

Before Ahil could answer, the black man turned his dark gaze to Kavitha, and he beckoned with an index finger, speaking in English. "Come with me."

Kavitha's mother held tight to her hand. "No. Stay here."

The black man scowled pointedly at Kavitha, making it clear that she had no choice in the matter.

"It's okay, Maji," she soothed with a forced smile that she hoped conveyed courage, though in truth the black man unnerved her, particularly the pistol he wore in a thigh holster. "Ahil came back; so will I. Maybe I can find out what's going to happen to us." She pried her mother's fingers from hers.

"Where are you taking my daughter?"

The man stared only at Kavitha, said, "Come."

Kavitha swallowed in a dry throat and crossed the room as if walking on thin ice, gaze locked with the big man, doing her best to appear defiant. He held the door wide for her and swept one arm to indicate the direction she was to take. She stayed as far away as she could from him as she slipped into the hallway. There was another armed man stationed outside their room. Guests weren't guarded with guns, she reflected. Were they truly prisoners as her mother feared?

Her escort remained silent as they reached the end of the long hallway and turned left. They entered a cavernous room filled with sunlight spilling through tall windows, light which fell across a beautiful piano. The highly polished wood of the instrument beckoned her touch, but she kept walking. What did the piano sound like and who played it? She had only seen pictures of pianos, and it seemed in those pictures that only very wealthy Westerners or Europeans owned them.

She gawked at the unlit chandeliers. What would they look like when lit? Her sandals made no sound on the rug that covered most of the wood floor. How had such a large thing been made? Where had it come from? Judging by the colors and pattern, perhaps it had been come from her home country.

Because she was so enthralled by the décor, she didn't notice the man behind a desk at the far end of the room. He was also nearly undetectable because he sat as motionless as the furniture around him, shadows partially cloaking him, for the area where he waited was recessed from the rest of the room and lacked windows. She knew from his size alone that he was the man called Haris and that he was awaiting her. Kavitha searched the shadows for John, and when she didn't find him, her throat became even drier, and her steps faltered, halting just outside of the alcove. Why had Sanjana's husband abandoned them?

"Thank you, Yemi," Haris rumbled, and Kavitha's escort left her.

She swallowed hard, trying not to show her fear. What did this man want with her? And why did she instinctively fear him? Was it simply because of his size?

"Come," he said in his almost guttural voice. "Sit."

His dark eyes trapped what little light reached him, reflecting only two small, glistening specks. He seemed like a different man from the one who had greeted them outside with a welcoming smile and shown them to their room. He never seemed to blink, his attention painfully strong upon her as if analyzing everything about her. But not in the perverse way of some of Ahil's friends or other men. So much power there that her instinctive reaction was to look away from him, yet she found herself unable to, as if hypnotized. She had a distinct feeling that he preferred the darkness to the light. It seemed to own him; he wore it like a comfortable shirt or a sheltering cloak. Under the portico, there had been enough natural light to reveal the hint of scarring on his face, but now the shadows concealed the marks. Although she preferred the brown skin tones of her own race, she found him attractive in a magnetic sort of way, something intangible beyond his shockingly well-built body and handsome facial features. Talia must be some woman to have laid claim to him.

"Sit, child."

Kavitha's back automatically stiffened, and she could not stop herself from saying, "I am not a child, sahib."

One corner of his full lips twitched upward. "My apologies," he said with a hint of warmth, easing her fears slightly as she sat in a chair in front of his neat desk.

"Did you just talk to my brother?"

"I did."

"What…" She faltered then rallied her courage. "What do you want with me? Is this about my sister?"

"No, this is about you, Kavitha."

"Me? Did you talk to my brother about me?"

"No, I talked to Ahil about Ahil."

"Where's John?" she said, for some reason wanting to delay what he had brought her here to discuss. If she reminded him of her tie to Sanjana's husband, perhaps he would be less inclined to hurt her. When she had seen the two men together for that brief moment upon their arrival here, she sensed a closeness between them, heard it in Haris's condolences to John and her family. She could tell Sanjana had been dear to all of them. Surely that affection would protect her.

"John is attending to some business elsewhere on the property. You will see him later." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "Do you approve of your sister's choice for a husband?"

Kavitha hesitated. "Well…I don't really know him, but I could see that my sister loved him very much and that he loved her." Sudden sorrow choked the rest of her words, and she looked away to hide the unheralded tears.

"I am sorry for your loss…our loss. Your sister will be greatly missed."

Kavitha nodded, sniffed. "I wish we would've had more time together when she came home, just the two of us, I mean."

"She spoke of you often, and she missed her family very much."

"We missed her too. But we thought she was still in Rajasthan. Why did she come here? Because of John? She wouldn't tell me many details before she…died."

"Yes, she came here because of John. But they first met in Rajasthan."

Bane gauged her statement that she had thought Sanjana had been at the palace. He could tell she was telling the truth, for there was a hint of frustration in her words, a sister's disappointment that Sanjana had not told her about leaving India. He cautioned himself against being sympathetic to this girl right now, but he could not help the fact that this young woman reminded him of Talia at that age, full of life and questions and strength of character. _Suffering builds character_. How many times had Talia spoken that mantra? Kavitha, like Talia, had suffered all her young life, so it was no surprise that she was wise beyond her years.

He crossed his bare forearms atop the desk, leaned slightly toward her. "Rest assured, we will find your sister's murderer. That is why I summoned you here. We need information. It is plain whoever fired that shot knew John was going to be there."

"But why would someone want to kill him?"

"John serves justice in this world. When you do such things, you often anger those who want the opposite, those who are corrupt, and many such people are also powerful people with resources to seek retribution. I suspect this is true for John's situation."

"What do you mean—he serves justice? What kind of work is that? Do you mean like a policeman or a detective?"

"There are many things neither I nor John can tell you, for the sake of our safety as well as yours. You must learn to accept this and trust me when I say it is for your own good. Perhaps someday things will be different, and you will be told more."

The curiosity in her eyes pleased him, and she too sat a bit forward in her seat. Her fingers rested lightly upon the desktop, one hand moving slowly back and forth as if relishing the smoothness. He understood her apparent fascination with her surroundings, for he easily remembered his early days in the world of light after being rescued from the pit prison. So many unbelievable sights, sounds, and smells. Exciting and unnerving all at once. He knew Sanjana would be pleased to see her sister delivered from poverty. Indeed, since becoming Barsad's lover she had often longed to have her sister live with them, to see her educated as she had been educated.

Bane proceeded to question her about her father's death and everything she knew about the circumstances surrounding it. Her father's passing did not elicit in her the same level of grief as Sanjana's, no tears, just a softening of her expression, a wistfulness. No doubt her thirst for an education had been discouraged by the patriarch, not only because their poverty did not allow it but because her father viewed women simply as domestics.

"Your sister wrote to you," Bane stated.

Kavitha shifted slightly in her chair as if self-conscious. "Yes. But I cannot read very well, and my mother cannot read at all, so Ahil would read her letters to us, even though he had a hard time doing it. My father would never listen to the letters; he would walk away. He was angry that she had learned how to read and write. He thought it shameful that she had 'wasted' her time on it. Ahil would write back to her, not for himself but for our mother; he didn't want our father to think he viewed Sanjana any differently than he did after what happened to her." She faltered. "Do you know what I'm talking about, sahib?"

"If you are referring to how Sanjana's betrothal ended, yes. We know how she came to be Maysam's servant."

Realization caused her to draw in a sharp breath. "Oh, Maysam, the lady my nephew called Jiddah when we arrived. She's the woman Sanjana worked for?"

"Yes."

"But…is she John's mother?"

Bane almost chuckled. "No, but she and John are very close. They have known each other a long time, longer than I have known them. James has always called her Jiddah because that is what Talia—her granddaughter—calls her. And she might as well be a blood relative, as much as they mean to one another."

"My mother is worried that she won't get to spend time with James."

"She has nothing to worry about in that matter. John is glad to have Sanjana's family here for James. But, Kavitha," his voice deepened, and his eyebrows lowered, "it is not just John who gets to say whether you all live here. Someone betrayed John, and if we find that any of you had anything to do with it…well, I cannot say if—"

"Had anything to do with it? We didn't even know about John until he showed up with Sanjana at our home. So, that's why you're asking me these questions, you think we told someone John was coming. But we didn't know, like I said."

Bane held up a restraining hand. "It is necessary for me to ask these questions. You said Sanjana wrote to you. She never mentioned John? You are certain?"

"No, not a word. I would remember something like that." She scowled a bit petulantly. "I'm telling you the truth."

Barsad had always been under strict orders to read all of Sanjana's letters before they were mailed via a circuitous route so they could not be traced to Chateau Blanc, but Bane knew his lieutenant trusted Sanjana to be discreet, so there was a chance he had not read all of the letters. Sanjana may have written one thing in her correspondence, thinking it innocent enough.

"In my line of work," he said, "I can trust few people."

"And what line of work is that? Do you…serve justice like you said John does?"

"I do indeed. And perhaps that is something that would interest you as well."

"What do you mean?"

"John told me you desire to be educated. You want to become a doctor."

"Yes." She folded her hands in her lap, as if afraid running her fingers over the desk might displease him and keep him from expounding.

"We can make that happen."

Her breath caught, and she could barely strangle out, "How?"

"We have resources for such things."

She did her best to control her racing heart, breathing deep. "Where would I go to school? Is there one nearby?"

Bane felt her excitement at the prospect, saw that bright light of anticipation in her gaze like he had seen in Talia's eyes as a child whenever he opened a book for her to study from the prison doctor's small library. Too bad Kavitha's brother was not so open and eager. His interrogation of Ahil had been confrontational, the boy at first puffing himself up like a banty rooster. Bane had quickly extinguished the young man's fire with little more than a few growled rebuffs and his uncomfortably close, looming bulk. By the time he was through with Ahil, the young man kept his eyes diverted, his shoulders rounded in submission, and his mouth closed. Bane's idea of having him trained by the League would have to wait, for he would need more time to evaluate the young man's character. The shock of all that had befallen Ahil would need to wear off. Only then could Bane decide on his future. For now, Ahil's duty was to comfort his family and accept life at Chateau Blanc. Bane had warned him that insolence or attempts to flee would not be tolerated.

"You will not attend a traditional school," Bane told Kavitha. "You will be tutored here. This, of course, will take several years. But if you excel in your studies, you will be sent to university to fulfill your dream."

She stared, agape. "Just like that? You could do all that?"

"Yes."

"But how? And why would you do that for me?"

"For many reasons, some you do not need to understand at the moment. For now, consider it done to honor your sister. Sanjana very much wanted to see you educated. We are happy to have the opportunity."

"When can I start?"

"It will take a couple of days to arrange a tutor. Once he arrives, you and your brother may begin immediately."

"Does Ahil know?"

"Yes, but sadly he lacks your enthusiasm. I credit that to his shock over your circumstances."

"He's been more concerned with helping my father provide for our family. I'm sure he will be grateful, as I am. Thank you, sahib."

Bane laced his fingers together, paused for a moment before continuing. He needed his generosity to completely sink in with Kavitha. "Now, I want you to think back on everything—your sister's letters, your brother's activities these past months, even your father's. If there is anything you might think could relate to what happened to Sanjana, you will tell me, something that is not coming to you this moment."

"Of course I will, sahib. But do you really think you can catch whoever did this?"

"Yes. I promise you I will. And by catching the assassin, I believe we will also discover who is responsible for your father's death."

"My father? But he was hit by a car; he wasn't shot."

"We believe the deaths may be connected."

"I don't understand."

"We believe your father's death was used to lure John to Jaipur."

Kavitha tried to grasp what he was saying, but it still made little sense to her. It was all a puzzle, one she was too exhausted to possibly comprehend. To think that Sanjana's marriage had been the cause of their father's death…well, considering how he had disowned Sanjana, perhaps this was karma. But then that had also caused Sanjana's death. Kavitha's head swam.

"Did you tell Ahil the same thing?" she asked.

"Yes." Bane had done so in the hope that Ahil would feel guilty if he had somehow been responsible for the assassin. But, like with Kavitha, Bane did not suspect Ahil of wrongdoing.

Kavitha bowed her head. "My poor mother."

"Speaking of your mother, it is time I speak with her."

"Why?" Kavitha knew any questioning by this man would terrify her mother. "She doesn't know anything that could help you. And she's exhausted, sahib."

"I won't keep her long." Bane nodded to Yemi, who had silently reappeared in the adjoining music room. "Yemi will escort you back to your room now and fetch your mother."

Slowly she stood. "You said my schooling will take years, sahib. Does that mean we won't be going home?"

"It is too dangerous for any of you to return to Jaipur now that we know the assassin and anyone who may have hired him knows of your connection to John. They could use you as a pawn to draw him out again should you be kidnapped."

The idea that they could be prey to some shadowy figure chilled Kavitha. She would never see her friends again, yet the prospect of her dream of an education coming true eased that sadness.

"Get some rest, child," her benefactor said.

This time she found she didn't mind him calling her that, for it somehow sounded more like an endearment than an insult. And as she left him, she kept thinking that there was something familiar about him, something about his eyes more than anything else, even more than his throaty voice. Somewhere in those dark eyes was the answer to a great mystery.


	14. Chapter 14

**IN THE CROSSHAIRS**

 **Chapter 14**

When Barsad returned to the chateau, he went to his suite. He would need to lie low until Nyssa left, which would hopefully be soon. Only then could he approach Bane.

He found Maysam in the living room with James, the boy on the floor, playing with wooden blocks. Occasionally James held one up toward Maysam where she sat nearby on a sofa and asked her what letter of the alphabet was on the block.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed. "Come play."

"In a minute, buddy," Barsad said as he headed toward his bedroom. "I'll be right back."

When he returned, Maysam asked, "What did Nyssa say?"

Barsad joined her on the sofa and held up the item that he had gone to retrieve from his bedroom. "Here. I meant to return this to you earlier."

"Oh, John…"

"What that, Daddy?" James tottered over, resting one hand against his father's knee for balance, the other reaching for the ring in Maysam's hand.

"It's my wedding ring, sweetheart," she said, allowing the boy to take it.

"Don't eat it, boy," Barsad joked.

James smiled and laughed. "I won't, Daddy."

"Okay, give it back to Jiddah now. It's very valuable."

Having no pockets, Maysam slipped the ring back on her finger. She considered it as if this were the first time she had worn it.

"Sanjana enjoyed wearing it," Barsad said wistfully. "Thanks again for loaning it to her. You can imagine her family was quite blown away by it. It meant a lot to her to be able to pretend it was really hers and that we were married." He frowned. "I should've given her what she wanted—to be truly married. Now it's too late."

"Where Mommy?"

Barsad lifted James onto his lap. Before he could answer, a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in."

As Talia poked her head inside, Henri's loud whispered question came from the hallway. "Is he in there, Mama?"

"May we come in?" Talia asked.

"Henri!" James cried, shifting his weight to get down as Barsad waved Talia in.

James hurried toward the door as Henri pushed past his mother. James threw his arms around his friend, even though he knew Henri only appreciated hugs when they came from one of the women in his life. Surprisingly, Henri hugged him back, no doubt coached by his parents to show such affection because of James's loss.

"Come play," James said.

"Henri," Talia said, "why don't you and James play in his room?"

"C'mon, Henri," James said, scurrying toward the hallway that led to the nursery.

Before Henri could follow, Talia touched her son's shoulder and leaned down to quietly say, "Remember what we told you."

He gave a small sigh of frustration, as if insulted that his mother thought he had forgotten her orders. "Yes, Mama."

"Don't be cheeky, young man. Now, go on, and help James have some fun."

As Henri rushed after James, Talia sat on a loveseat across from Barsad and Maysam. "I expected James would still be napping."

"He slept for a while," Maysam said. "But he was restless."

"He keeps asking about Sanjie," Barsad lamented.

"He will for a while," Maysam said. "We just have to be patient with him."

"How did your audience go with the queen?" Talia asked with a conspiratorial grin.

Barsad sighed. "No doubt as you expected it would. A bruised ego and threats."

He related the conversation, Talia listening in sober silence, Maysam occasionally interjecting brief words of indignation.

"Needless to say," he concluded, "I'm going with Bane."

"Have you spoken to him about this?" Talia asked.

Barsad knew if someone other than Nyssa were in the role of the Demon's Head, Talia would be protesting or forbidding his plans. This was why he had felt safe revealing his planned disobedience.

"He's still interrogating Sanjie's family," he replied. "I'll talk to him after Nyssa leaves. But in the meantime, I wanted to tell you two because of Jimmy. I know for his sake it's not a good time for me to leave, but I also know you understand why I have to."

"But Nyssa will eventually find out. She will have eyes on you," Maysam said. "What if she isn't bluffing about what she said could happen to you?"

Barsad knew Maysam didn't care if he was excommunicated; she would be happy to see him free of his League obligations and the inherent dangers. No, she feared Nyssa would order his execution.

"I don't think Nyssa's bluffing," he said. "But I'll deal with that when the time comes."

Maysam tried her best to dissuade him from his chosen path for James's sake. Talia, however, remained silent until her grandmother finished.

"What if Bane refuses you?" Talia asked.

"He won't," Barsad said, hiding his doubts. Bane could indeed deny him for reasons both Nyssa and Maysam had vocalized or he could refuse out of respect for the chain of command; surely Nyssa had imparted her threats against her third-in-command upon him. But if he did, Barsad still intended to pursue Sanjana's killer.

"I hope he does refuse you," Maysam said. "Forgive me, John, but I'm thinking of James. Haris will find the assassin, and I'm sure he would allow you to dispatch him. Wouldn't that be enough?"

"I've told both of you my plans because I need you to help Jimmy cope while I'm gone."

"For how long?" Maysam protested. "Your search could take months."

"Even if it does," he said, "I'll come back regularly to see Jimmy. And I also need you to promise me, both of you, that while I'm gone, you'll let Vita help with him."

Maysam gave a snort and looked away. Barsad stared at her until she turned back to him.

"Of course we will," Talia said. "Don't worry about my grandmother." She raised an eyebrow at Maysam. "I will make sure she behaves."

* * *

Bane watched the helicopter lift from the grassy patch in front of the chateau. Though the wind from the blades buffeted him, he stood as solid as an ancient tree, arms crossed, eyes upon Nyssa behind one of the windows of the Airbus H125. Her gaze remained on his, her final words echoing in his ears: "Barsad is going to try to accompany you, I'm sure. You have your orders. I won't tolerate disobedience, from either of you."

Bane grunted to himself and remained standing there until the helicopter gained speed and wheeled away to the west. Only then did he turn back to the chateau. The warmth of the afternoon sun on his always-aching back felt like the warm caress of a gentle shower, reminding him of the morning shower he had taken with Talia. He smiled at the erotic memory, but as he neared the portico, the expression faded, for there stood Barsad in the doorway beneath the portico, waiting for him.

"I'm ready to leave," Barsad said.

Though they were alone, Bane gave him a pointed look to silence him. He considered his haggard, anxious lieutenant, then said, "Walk with me, brother."

Bane started at a leisurely pace for the small garden beyond the driveway. Once there, they moved along the hard-packed gravel, flanked by rose gardens and low, carefully pruned ornamental shrubs. A fountain with a sculpted stallion, half to scale, provided a hint of coolness. Bane gestured to a nearby bench made from the same stone as the fountain.

"Sit, brother." Bane gestured.

"This is no time to fuck around. We should be heading out."

Bane gave him a steely stare until Barsad obeyed. Purposefully he remained standing above his friend for a long moment before also sitting on the bench.

"I have orders to leave you here."

"Of course you do. But you know I'm going with you."

"I tend to agree with Nyssa on this."

"Like hell."

"Granted, for different a reason."

"What reason?"

"For the sake of your son."

"Now you sound like Maysam."

"She is wiser than all of us. You should listen to her even if you do not listen to me."

"If it were Talia who had taken that bullet instead of Sanjana, you'd feel the same as me. No way would you hang back and let someone else avenge her, not even because of your kids. Don't bullshit me, Bane."

"You will get your vengeance, brother; you know I will allow you to execute those responsible."

"Damn it, Bane—"

"You know what disobedience could lead to. Are you willing to risk orphaning your child if she were to seek your execution?"

"That won't happen. You and Talia won't let it happen. And no one else on the council will be in favor of it either."

"Then it will mean excommunication."

"So be it. I'm willing to take my chances. I'm going with you."

Bane studied him in both frustration and understanding. Barsad was right about what he would do if he were in his lieutenant's boots; no one on earth could keep him from destroying anyone who harmed the mother of his children in any way.

"If Nyssa finds out," Barsad continued, "I'll tell her I did it on my own, that you weren't involved. And you don't need to be. Stay here with your family."

"I have orders to lead this investigation."

"Fine, then do it, but we could still say I worked independently when it comes down to killing the bastard responsible."

"Nyssa will believe it no more than she believed that going to Jaipur was strictly your own doing. She is no fool, brother."

"Well, she's not gonna kill _you_ or excommunicate you. It'll mean censure, maybe, but I know you're not afraid of that. Damn it, Bane, forget about the League for a minute, about Nyssa. We've been through a ton of shit together as brothers; you _are_ my brother. If things were different, I'd be there for you, and fuck everyone else."

Bane sighed and leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, restless fingers laced together. "You are too emotionally attached to the mission."

"And you're not? C'mon, you loved Sanjana."

"Of course I did. That is beyond question. But I am more skilled at detachment than you. Detachment allows one to think clearer, to see the goal of the mission without prejudice."

In a burst of frustration, Barsad got to his feet. "Don't lecture me about detachment, Bane. If I recall, you weren't exactly detached on that mission where your mentor, Temujin, was killed. Remember him?" he said in a sarcastic snarl. "Ever since that day, you've regretted following your superior officer's orders. Well, I'm not gonna have regrets like that. Either you let me come with you or I'm taking matters into my own hands."

Fury clenched Bane's fists, and he slowly rose from the bench like a building tidal wave. He had few regrets in life, but the loss of Temujin was one of his greatest, a wound that never healed, and Barsad had just ripped off the scab. He advanced, but Barsad stood his ground, eyes like blue ice, as if welcoming a chance for physical violence. Bane's chest nearly touched him.

"Barsad," he growled, "if not for Sanjana, you would be on the ground right now, bloody and unconscious. If you ever repeat what you just said about Temujin, I will not be so restrained."

They remained there for a long moment, barely breathing, gazes locked, muscles tight. Bane would stay there until the end of time unless Barsad submitted. They had had many disagreements over the years, but Barsad had never used the underhanded tactic that he had just displayed. As a frustrated subordinate, it might be excused; as a friend, it could not.

Finally Barsad blinked and stepped back. The harshness left him, and he spoke with calm, measured words. "I have to go, Bane. You know it. You do. I have to do this, just like Temujin had to leave to find the men who murdered his wife. If he were here, he'd understand. I'm asking you to do the same. If we really are more than just commander and lieutenant, you will. And we are. Aren't we?"

Bane continued to stare at him as he forced his passions to retreat. Barsad swallowed, momentarily dropped his gaze, took another step back.

"You think I'm outta line."

"You are," Bane rumbled.

"I'm desperate."

"That is understandable, but it is no excuse for your behavior."

"I shouldn't have said what I did about Temujin. I'm sorry."

Bane gave a small grunt of acknowledgement.

"I have to go, Bane. With you or without you."

With the dissipation of his indignation, Bane studied him anew, weighed everything. He could see there was no stopping Barsad, so either way his friend would be forfeit with the League. To let him go alone would be foolish, for Barsad's headlong rage could be the end of him, then James would truly be an orphan. If they went together, he would have a chance to preserve Barsad's life. Talia and Maysam would want him to do everything in his power to do so. Yet preserving his life might be a moot point if Nyssa ultimately had him executed. No, he could not allow it to happen. He would find a way through this minefield.

"My investigation will start with Nashir," Bane said of Maysam's brother-in-law, who currently was the head of the El Fadil family business, one with broad reaches into arms dealing and opium production, as well as legal enterprises. "But he is currently out of India. He will be back at the palace tomorrow. That is why I'm waiting until 0600 tomorrow to leave." Bane paused to see if Barsad was foolish enough to offer another impassioned outburst, but his lieutenant, as usual, seemed to pick up on the change in his commander. "You realize Nyssa will know if you leave. No doubt one or more of our brothers here will have orders to immediately report your absence."

"I don't care if she knows."

"Obviously, but it will gain you a bit of time if you are not seen leaving with me."

"That's fine, too. In fact, it'd be best if I go alone, then you won't be held accountable for my actions."

"Rest assured, brother," Bane said with a bit of amusement, "Nyssa will hold me as accountable as you. But if we are not seen leaving together, I can claim ignorance."

"So exactly what are you saying?"

"You will leave under cover of darkness. I will have Abrams take care of any surveillance footage that might capture your departure. You will take a circuitous route to the airfield, taking care that you are not followed. You will board the plane as soon as it lands. I will meet you there."

Barsad studied him, a small smile of gratitude touching his lips. "I'm sorry to put you in this position. I can go alone. You don't have to be a part of this."

"For your son's sake, it will be best if I am with you. As I said, I can remain detached whereas it is impossible for you to do so. You have had my back since the day we met. Now, in this, I will have yours."

Barsad nodded. "Thanks."

"I suggest you spend as much time with James as possible before your departure. Let him suspect nothing until you say goodbye. I am assuming you have already warned Maysam of your departure."

"Yeah, and Talia. I asked them both to help Jimmy understand. It's shit that I have to do this to him. I hope I don't regret it."


End file.
